
























TWO WAYS. 


~hvu>. 




ANNA HANSON, DORSEY, 

« i 


Author of “’Beth’s Promise,” “Adrift,” “Tom Boy,” 
“The Flemmings,” “Palms,” etc. 



THIRD THOUSAND .. 



JOHN MURPHY COMPANY, 


BALTIMORE, MD. : 

200 W. Lombard Street. 


NEW YORK: 

70 Fifth Avenue. 


5W-, 

T 

3 


Copyright, 1891, 

By ANNA HANSON DORSEY. 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 


c c 
c 

( 

c < 
c c ( < 



< < ( 


* 


By Transfer 

0. C. Public Library 


DEC 2« 1998 


WITHDRA W N 



TWO WAYS. 


CHAPTER I. 

A ItAINY DAY. 

Every Wednesday the resident pupils at the 
Academy of the Visitation, in Georges Street, re- 
ceived their relatives and nearest friends, and they 
always looked forward to it from week to week with 
anticipations of great enjoyment, as it not only 
brought them fresh glimpses of the outside world, 
but a sight of the dear home faces, descriptions of 
the latest fashions and gayeties, and of the many 
changes that were taking place^ some bright, some 
very sad in their various circles; Hre girls ‘-who 
were there from a distance had their inti mates' 'at 
the academy whose friends always asked for them, 
so that although debarred the happiness of see- 
ing their own kindred, they were permitted to go 
into the parlor where they shared the general enjoy- 
ment, and received much special kindness and 
attention from the visitors. The only really lonely 
ones in the house were three or four little South 
American girls, who could not speak a word of Eng- 
lish, and were left to their own devices on Wednes- 
days, passing part of the day in the play-room, 


4 


TWO WAYS. 


where they huddled together around the register, 
talking Spanish and eating bon-bons ; when tired of 
that, they wandered up and down through the long 
corridors, visited the great tropical plants in the 
library windows, and ended the day by going into 
the chapel where they said their beads and shed 
some home-sick tears. There was one person also, 
to whom the day was a stumbling block and a 
cross — old Sister Ursula the portress — who, by rea- 
son of being obliged to open and shut her window 
incessantly to answer the demands of visitors, and 
withdraw the bolt of her door to let the girls 
through, in and out of the parlor, besides numerous 
other distractions which gave her a buzzing in her 
head; was deprived of her daily visit to the Blessed 
Sacrament, and other special acts of devotion, and 
being only human, she sometimes lost patience and 
spoke sharply to the giddy young creatures as they 
rushed in and out, without a thought of anything 
beyond their own pleasures, looking upon nuns as 
beings hafi no\right to expect anything but 
trial's an(,U drosses}. which it was their duty to bear 
without complaint. 

Many of the pupils from far and near, ignorant 
when they came of the strict rules of the academy 
about certain things, had brought with them hand- 
some silk dresses, velvet spencers, laces, sashes, fur- 
belows of various sorts, and articles of jewelry, sup- 
posing that they would be allowed to wear them on 
Sundays and holidays ; but they were told, to their 
infinite disgust, that all these fine things were 
utterly useless there, and would remain packed in 
their trunks under lock and key, in a room at the 


A RAINY BAY. 


5 


top of the house, unless they got permission to 
spend the holidays at home, or with friends desig- 
nated by their parents, on which occasions only, 
they would be at liberty to wear them. All of the 
pupils wore a prescribed uniform, brown merino 
dresses in winter, black silk apron, linen collar and 
cuffs, and no jewelry except small plain ear-rings 
• and a watch (if they were fortunate enough to own 
one), but no chain or trinkets, only a plain black 
guard was allowed, and a knot of ribbon at the 
throat ; in the summer they wore black alpaca skirts, 
apron, and white cambric spencers ; but when it is 
remembered that these articles of dress were tastily 
and prettily made of nice materials generally, with 
appropriate trimmings, the girls looked far more 
attractive in their simple toilettes, than if bediz- 
ened in the fantastic styles worn by the votaries of 
fashion. But they grumbled none the less, and 
thought it especially hard that they could not 
“ dress up a little ” on visiting days. “ It could do 
no harm,” they argued, “to lay aside the uniform 
for a few hours, and not be obliged to go into the 
parlor before so many elegantly dressed persons, 
looking like servant girls.” Not that they did look 
in the least like servant girls, the very fact of their 
being quietly dressed and having on no finery pre- 
vented it, but that was the way they put it. How- 
ever, the rules were strict, and they were obliged to 
submit with the best grace they might, and make 
the most of it, which the larger girls did by arrang- 
ing their hair in the most frizzy and distracting style, 
especially on Wednesdays, and making a specialty of 
the knot of ribbon they were allowed to wear at the 


6 


TWO WAYS. 


throat, which, if well-selected as to color and mate* 
rial, formed, with its long fluttering ends, a very 
effective addition to their toilette. Beside this, 
some of the nearly grown young ladies found conso- 
lation in perching a coquettish little bow of velvet 
or bright ribbon among the puffs and frizzes of 
their hair, which, as there was no law laid down to 
make it contraband, remained unnoticed by the • 
good sisters. This Convent school, with its variety 
of characters representing all classes, individuali- 
ties, and temperaments, was a world in itself. 
There were one hundred and thirty girls of various 
ages, resident pupils of the academy, who were to be 
educated, watched over with incessant care morally, 
intellectually and physically ; there were rules gen- 
eral and particular to be enforced for their well-be- 
ing and advancement ; and numberless cares, as 
well as ceaseless vigilance, to be exercised in their 
culture and training by the good nuns whose faith- 
ful performance of their duties gave them small 
rest, and whose successful fulfilment of their re- 
sponsibilities, even while it brought their school 
into the highest repute, imposed upon them a cross 
from which, even daily use brought them no relief. 

It was within a few weeks of Christmas, and Wed- 
nesday had been expected with more than usual 
eagerness by the girls, large and small ; there was 
so much to be thought of in that time, so many 
things to be got, so much to be done ; they wanted 
to hear about their new holiday dresses, plan about 
their home entertainments, arrange matters relating 
to tableaux and private theatricals ; in fact, their 
fancy was so full of these anticipated delights that 


A RAINY DAY. 


7 


a complaint 'reached the directress that the pupils 
were shamefully remiss in their studies, whereupon 
she arose one morning in the class-room, and made 
them a brief little speech to the effect that unless 
they resumed their diligence forthwith, there should 
be no going out at Christmas. It was a sudden 
douche , but they knew that she always meant what 
.she said, and it had the desired effect. 

Wednesday came at last, the Wednesday so hoped 
for, but the sun arose behind thick masses of gray 
clouds through which not a ray of brightness pene- 
trated ; and when the girls filed out of the chapel 
from Mass, they observed as they crossed the cov- 
ered porch to their part of the academy that it was 
raining, and it continued to rain until the refectory 
bell rang for breakfast, when, as if waiting for the 
signal, it poured down in such cataracts of water as 
to afford one a realizing sense of how it must have 
been once upon a time when “ the windows of 
heaven were opened and the floods descended.” 
Sister Ursula, aching with rheumatic pains, con- 
sulted the barometer, and with devout thankfulness 
observed : “ Steady rain it says, and the wind from 
the east ; the old joints feel it, but, thank our dear 
Lord, we shall have no distractions to-day.” 

But in the refectory, up and down the tables, 
were many faces that wore a look of disappoint- 
ment, and although it was “talk day” at meals, the 
usual merry chatter and ripples of laughter were 
unheard, and the sound of the rain lashing and 
beating against the window panes rendered almost 
inarticulate the complaints they uttered, and the 
fervent hopes expressed that it might clear off. 


8 


TWO WAYS. 


The good sisters who presided at the tables tried in 
their pleasant, kindly way to soften the general dis- 
appointment, by admonishing the girls that this 
was a good opportunity to gain merit by cheerful 
resignation, and was a beginning by which to take 
a step in preparing themselves for the greater dis- 
appointments of life that lay before them. But 
they were in no mood for moral reflections, and the 
lesson had but small weight. 

“ It is our day,” said these young rebels against 
the ways of Providence, “and it is a hard case to be 
cheated out of our pleasure by a storm that would 
have done just as well yesterday or to-morrow.” 

“ But was not yesterday somebody^ day, and will 
not to-morrow be also ? There are more people in 
the world than ourselves, why should they be disap- 
pointed for us ? Come, let us go to the play-room ; 
perhaps you may be able to find some way of amus- 
ing yourselves,” said Sister Agnese, rising from the 
table. They all loved the patient-faced, gentle 
nun, and it was always a great treat to them when- 
ever she joined them, but now the charm of her 
presence was scarcely felt, and was quite powerless 
to restore the cheerfulness of the malcontents. 
Some of the Smaller and two or three of the older 
girls gathered around her in the play-room as she 
sat there stitching up some Agnus Deis she had 
embroidered herself, talking the while of interest- 
ing incidents that had come into her experience 
before she was a nun, until they were won to forget- 
fulness of the storm. Several, on finding that their 
ill-humor had not the slightest effect on the 
weather, went upstairs to get their little red 


A RAINY DAY. 


9 


morocco trunks, which contained their silks, wors- 
teds and fancy work, and returned with them to the 
play-room to try and while away the time in the in- 
tricacies of crochet and embroidery, while they re- 
lated to each other in confidential tones such news 
as had lately come to them by letter or otherwise ; 
and little bits of school gossip, of which there was 
never a dearth. Two tall, fine-looking girls, their 
faces full of the glow of health, were having a game 
of battledore and shuttlecock, at the farther end of 
the spacious room, and gathered quite an excited 
ring around them, by declaring they meant to keep 
the bird up to three hundred. They had already 
sent it back and forth over a hundred times, and 
the interest in the success of the game grew to such 
a pitch that the spectators betted sugar plums 
freely on the result. Some of the first-class girls, 
who wished to shine in music during their Christ- 
mas holiday out, went off to harp and piano, glad of 
an extra practice ; some sauntered up and down the 
long apartment, others lounged on the benches as if 
life was without aim or purpose to them ; quite a 
group assembled in the library for a long cosy 
“ read,” and when Sister Ursula went into the 
chapel at noon, she saw quite a number of devout 
young souls with sweet, recollected countenances, 
reverently bowed before the mighty and compas- 
sionate Presence abiding in the tabernacle, 
where we will leave them in their silent 
communion with Heaven, to return to the play- 
room. 

“ What is the matter with you, Bessie Shaw ? 
you sit doubled up there against the wall moping as 


10 


TWO WAYS. 


if yon hadn't a friend in the world ! " said a bright- 
faced, saucy-looking girl to another. 

“ Is'n't such weather enough to make an angel 
mope? it's just horrid! perfectly horrid!" an- 
swered the one called Bessie Shaw, with an ex- 
pression of bitter disgust. 

“ Does it ever rain in St. Louis ? " asked the 
other, laughing. 

“ You know it does, Maggie Ward ; but I wasn't 
mewed up in a convent in St. Louis, and if I wanted 
to go out when it rained like this, I had a carriage 
to go in. It is perfectly hateful ! " 

“ What ! a carriage ? " 

“ Don't be such a simpleton. People who have 
never been used to carriages don't feel the want of 
them," was the answer, with a toss of the head. 

“ Maybe they don't, but for my part I just hate 
them, and if I can beg off I never drive with 
mamma. I'd rather be in a cart filled with clean 
straw, and go bumping along over the country 
roads, for there's some fun in that, than be stuck 
up in a carriage where I have to sit still and behave 
like f prunes and prisms' all the way." 

“ I declare, I never heard of such low tastes, 
Madge Ward ; but maybe your carriage is shabby, 
and you're ashamed to ride in it." 

“ Shabby ! oh laws ! It's fine enough for a cir- 
cus turn-out, and mamma has two flunkies in livery 
on the box ; coat-of-arms on the panels, and 
whistles, and check-reins, and spring seats, and a 
pair of the* handsomest horses — I dote on horses — 
but papa's like me, he hates to go out in it, he says 
it makes him feel like a fool," said Madge Ward, 


A RAINY BAY. 


11 


laughing so merrily as to show her deep dimples 
and white, even teeth at once. 

“ How very funny ! What's the reason, I won- 
der ? " 

“ Oh, I don't mind telling you or anybody else in 
the least. Papa's the jolliest, best man alive, and I 
love him dearly, but then you know he made his 
money selling groceries ; that is, he kept a shop, 
and used .to drive his own wagon round with parcels, 
and he's proud of it, for although he sold out when 
he'd made money enough, he got the man to prom- 
ise to let the old sign stay up, and there it is yet, 
though somebody has picked off the first letter, and 
I reckon the others will follow, for it is a perfect 
eye-sore to mamma." 

“ Why don't she get the man to paint them 
out ?" 

“ It can't be done, my deary, because, the letters 
are carved, and put on somehow raised an inch 
above the sign board, and all gilt ; then you know 
the man would object, for it's an old stand, papa 
says, and the old customers stand by the old sign." 

“ I think your mamma is right. But what a 
funny girl you are ! I wouldn't tell everybody if I 
were you ! " 

“ I would, I don't care a single snap. I don't like 
to sail under false colors and get myself snubbed for 
my pains. If people don't like me for myself, I 
don't want to be liked. Why don't you get your 
box and finish that smoking-cap for your cousin ? 
I'm going to get my embroidery, I'm tired of doing 
nothing." 

“ You can get yours if you like. You are so dis- 


12 


TWO WAYS. 


agreeable to-day, Madge Ward,” said Bessie Shaw, 
putting up her lip, while her cheeks wore a height- 
ened color. 

“1 thought I was making myself very agreea- 
ble ! '' answered the other laughing. 

“You're mistaken, that's all. I'm not going to 
do a single thing to-day ; it's hateful, rain, rain, 
nothing but rain. But look there ! '' she added, 
with something like interest ; “ where «did that 
strange child drop from ? '' . 

“ Where ? Oh ! I see her now sitting on the 
bench by the door ; what a forlorn looking mouse it 
is.'' 

“ Did you ever see so common-looking a creature ! 
How horrid it is to be mixed up with children of 
that class. She must be some beggar-woman's 
child, nobody seems to know her*.'' 

“Suppose you go and make her acquaintance ! 
She does look funny, with her hair skewed up in 
two tight little pig-tails, and her big shoes full of 
patches.'' 

“ I'm going to have some fun with her ! '' said 
Bessie Shaw. 

“ Let the poor little thing alone, Bessie ! '' 

“ I won't,'' was the reply, as she uncurled herself 
from her corner and sauntered down the room to 
where the strange child was sitting, and staring 
around like a frightened hare. 

“ Where did you come from, little girl ? " asked 
Bessie Shaw, as she stood in front of her, and fixed 
her eyes in a broad stare on her face ; while the 
child, with flushed face, straightened herself up, 
and folded her hands primly in her lap, half fright- 


A RAINY BAY. 13 

ened to find herself the object of attention to such a 
nice-looking, pretty young lady. 

“ From town. Miss.” 

“ A town in the moon?” 

“Are there towns in the moon, surely Miss?” 
asked the child, with simple curiosity. 

“ Didn’t you know that, you little dunce? I’m 
afraid your education has been neglected.” 

“ I never was at school before! ” 

“I should think not. When did you come?” 

“ This morning, Miss.” 

“Did you swim here?” 

“No, Miss, the milk-man fetched me; he lives 
next door to my mother's.” 

“I thought somebody must have 1 fetched ' you. 
Does your mother sell apples? ” 

“ No, Miss; ” said the child, looking now with 
large grave eyes full in her interlocutor's face, as if 
it had suddenly dawned upon her simplicity that 
she was being made fun of. 

“What does your da — your father do?” 

“ My father's dead,” was the low-voiced reply, 
while the large gray eyes suddenly fell. 

“Are you a charity girl?” 

“I don't know what you mean. Miss! "still in 
low tremulous tones. 

“ What's your name, then, I suppose you know 
that?” 

“Nora Kinsella.” 

“Are you Irish?” 

But before Nora could answer, a tall, dark-eyed 
girl who had overheard the conversation as she 
stood a few moments after entering the play-room 


14 


TWO WAYS. 


to disentangle her plain watch guard from her 
sleeve button, said: 

“You have a very pretty name, Nora Kinsella.” 
The few words were kindly spoken in a pleasant 
voice that had a ring of true goodness in it. 
“ Would you not like to come with me, Nora, to 
look at some pretty pictures?” 

“Indeed and I would, Miss, it's all so strange to 
me here,” said the child, hurrying to stand close 
to her, placing her hand in hers. 

“ I declare, Hester Milburn, you do set yourself 
up to do the strangest things! ” exclaimed Bessie 
Shaw, angrily. “ I have always been taught that it 
was extremely rude to interrupt a conversation.” 

“ Yes, I know, it is a very ill-bred thing, there's 
no mistake about that , Bessie; but do you call what 
you were saying to this child conversation? If you 
do, I have yet to learn the meaning of the word. 
Come, Nora Kinsella, let us go,” said Hester Mil- 
burn, leading her little protegee out of the play- 
room, while Bessie Shaw returned flushed and angry 
to where Madge Ward awaited with some curiosity 
to hear all that had passed. 

“I do declare!” she exclaimed, throwing herself 
back in her old corner, “ I never, in all my life, saw 
any one take such airs on herself as Hester Milburn 
does. Did you see how she marched up and took 
that little clodhopper off, just as I was getting 
some fun out of her? ” Then she related all that 
had passed. 

“I don't see how you could talk to the poor little 
thing so, but I tell you what, I'm glad it was you 
instead of me. I don't fancy Hester Milburn much. 


A It AIN Y DAY. 


15 


but she’s one of the head girls, and every one 
respects her — fact is I’m a little afraid of her! ” 

“Afraid! and respect! You do more than I do 
then. She’s always prying round, and telling on 
the girls,” said Bessie Shaw, in a spiteful voice. 

“ Oh, pshaw! Come now! that’s going a little 
too far for me. She’s too good and too proud to do 
such mean things,” exclaimed Madge. 

“ Who is? ” asked a young girl who had joined 
them. 

“ Hester Milburn, I say, is too good and honora- 
ble to be a sneak,” answered Madge, warmly. 
“Don’t you think so too, Ada Gray?” 

“I don’t know, maybe she is, but what’s the 
matter? ” She was told, and her sympathies were 
evidently with Bessie Shaw. 

“And the airs she puts on! Any one would 
suppose she was as rich as Croesus,” said Bessie, 
quite elated. 

“It’s not her fault if people are foolish enough 
to think so, for I’ve heard her speak of herself as 
being poor, and expecting, after she graduates, to 
support herself by her own exertions,” said Madge, 
warmly. 

“She puts on airs about her family, then!” said 
Ada Gray. 

“I don’t know about that; if she does she has a 
right to, because I’ve heard papa say that she’s 
come of the best blood in the country. But good 
gracious! what nonsense we are talking, to be sure. 
Good-by, I’m going up to the work-room for my 
embroidery.” 


CHAPTER II. 


A GHOST. 

Ok her way to the library,' holding Nora Kin- 
sella’s chubby, hard little hand in the soft, friendly 
grasp of her own, Hester Milburn stopped at each 
of the windows* that lighted the long hall on one 
side that led to it, to show her the great broad- 
leafed tropical plants in the large garden vases, one 
in each embrasure; while even the pale light that 
shone through them, brought out rich crimsons, 
vivid greens, broad dashes of gold, purple shades 
and delicate rose-hues that nestled coyly here and 
there between the darker tints of brown and russet. 
The plants bore no flowers, but the rich and varied 
colorings of the leaves supplied the deficiency. The 
little Irish girl had seen dahlias, roses, lilacs, pinks, 
and other sweet-smelling, old-fashioned flowers; but 
these large, superb tropical leaves, were perfect 
marvels to her. 

Then they went into the library where several of 
the young ladies were reading, and going to the 
upper end of it, which was just now deserted, 
Hester opened a very large book that rested on an 
upright stand, and, turning over a page or tw T o, 
revealed to Nora Kinsella's astonished eyes, pictures 
of birds painted so true to life that she was half 
wild with delight, imagining at first that they were 


A GHOST. 


17 


real and asking a hundred or more questions, which 
were patiently and pleasantly answered. 

“ There he is,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands 
and laughing merrily; “he’s a swallow and lives in 
our chimney, and sometimes. Miss, the little ones 
fall out of bed, and it’s great fun to hear ’em all 
fluttering and having a great talk — their sort of 
talk — over it; but the old birds get ’em back to bed, 
somehow.” 

“ Yes, I have heard that each of the old birds 
take hold of a wing of the unfortunate tumbler and 
manage to fly up the chimney With him to their 
nest. They’re regular little chimney-sweeps, are 
the swallows. ” 

“So they be,” answered Nora, with a quiet little 
laugh; “but see. Miss, there’s my cunning little 
wren, and you should hear how she and her mate 
whistle and twinkle all day long, under the eaves, in 
summer.” 

“I like to hear them, too, Nora; but see! here’s 
a stupid, strange fellow, who makes a horrible noise 
sometimes when he should be asleep,” said Hester, 
turning over another page. 

“And is he alive. Miss?” she asked, drawing 
back a step, for the owl was as large as life, and, as 
the saying is, “twice as natural”; “or is he stuffed 
like the one my father shot in the tree by our 
house?” 

“No; this is a picture like the rest,” said Hester, 
laughing. 

“I never saw such pictures, then; they look just 
like I could take hold of a feather and pull it out. 
Oh! here’s my sweetheart bluebird,” exclaimed 


18 


TWO WAYS. 


Nora, smoothing the painted plumage of her favorite 
with the lightest possible touches, as if she feared 
it might suddenly fly away. 

“Do you like this the best?" 

“Indeed and I do, then; for he seems to speak to 
me out of the sky when he flies far up, whistling so 
soft, where you can’t see him. I used to lie under 
the apple trees in the spring, among the grass, listen- 
ing and watching for him all day; then, when I’d 
hear him away, way up, I’d answer him, and he’d 
answer me back.’’ 

“That was nice fun; but is your home in the 
country?’’ 

“No, Miss; leastways, it wasn’t then. But my 
granny lives in the country, and I used to be sent 
there sometimes to see her; but I didn’t like it 
much when I had to stay, except when I was under 
the apple-trees or out in the woods," answered 
Nora, while a shadow stole over her face and tears 
gathered in her eyes. 

“You were lonesome, I suppose?’’ 

“No, I wasn’t. Miss, for there were plenty of 
pigs and chickens and a snow-white calf to play 
with, but she was cross, and would scold me betimes 
just for nothing at all; and now that my father’s 
dead and gone, my mother and my lame brother 
Teddy are going to live with her in the country. 
She’s got a horse and a cow, Miss, and heaps of 
chickens and ducks, and goes to market with vege- 
tables and eggs and things to sell, but she’s very 
old, and my mother’s going to help her.’’ 

“Is Teddy younger than you?’’ 

“ Oh, no, Miss; he’s older by three years; but he 


A GHOST. 


19 


just comes to my shoulder and walks upon crutches. 
His hack got hurt when he was a baby, and he don't 
grow like other boys; but I'm glad he’s going to 
stay at granny's, for the noise of the streets used to 
hurt his head here in town; and there it is very 
quite,* except when the cars come by; but he'll like 
to watch them, 'specially of nights when they're all 
lit up, and the engine looks like a great fiery 
dragon tearing along, screaming and whooping. 
Then, in the .summer time, you know, he'll have 
the birds and all the sweet smells from the grass 
and flowers; and there'll be the chickens and geese. 
Oh, it'll be a good thing for Teddy, anyhow." 

“ How does it happen that you are left behind, 
Nora?" asked Hester, amused as well as interested 
by the child's simple talk. 

“ The Sisters said I should stay here, Miss, and 
go to school; but if I am glad not to go and live 
with my granny, — I — I — don't like p-par-parting 
with — my own — own mammy, a-n-and poor — little 
Teddy," sobbed Nora. 

“ Never mind, don't cry; most of the girls you 
see here are away from their mothers and fathers. 
I am," said Hester, wiping the tears from Nora’s 
cheeks with her own handkerchief. 

“ We're very poor. Miss; that's the reason my — 
my — poor mammy had — to break up. She's not 
strong — she's had many bad turns since father died; 
the saints help him." 

“What a good thing it is, then, for your mother 
and poor little Teddy to have a nice home in the 
country to go to," said Hester, to comfort her. 

* Quiet. 


20 


TWO WAYS. 


“But granny’s so cross, Miss; that’s the bother. 
If you heard her scold once ; it’s like a corn-mill 
going round in the air, sure, for she scolds in Irish, 
and even the pigs run when she begins.” 

“Did she ever beat you, Nora ?” 

“ Never, Miss.” 

“ Does she always give you enough to eat ?” 

“Indeed and she does ; full and plenty.” 

“ Do you have a nice bed to sleep in when you 
are there?”, 

“She’s got the beautifullest feather beds — geese 
feathers they be — and linen sheets she spun and 
wove herself when she was young in Ireland ; and 
she’s got blankets, and quilts, and everything ; and, 
indeed, Miss, she’s not close-fisted a bit ; but I tell 
you she’s cross, and that’s all about it.” 

“ Maybe she has aches, and pains, and troubles to 
think over that make her cross, when in her heart 
she is really kind,” suggested Hester. 

“She says she’s got rheumatiz. Miss, and her 
joints do get all swelled up and purple some- 
times.” 

“Then she’s cross ?” 

“ As two sticks, Miss.” 

“ Does she complain ? ” 

“ No, Miss, she scolds in Irish.” 

“Ah, well, don’t you see, Nora, that it’s the 
rheumatism that does it,” said Hester Milburn, 
laughing. “ Come, we won’t look at any more 
birds to-day ; I’m going to the chapel a little while ; 
then to the Odeon to my harp practice. Shall you 
like to go?” 

“ Indeed and I will, Miss. My granny often says 


A GHOST. 


21 


there’s no music like the Irish harp in the whole 
world.” 

“So I have heard, Nora; but mine is not an Irish 
harp, although it makes very lovely music.” 

“I’m sure it does, Miss, when you play on it,’ ; 
said the ready-witted, warm-hearted little thing, 
with the quiet tact and grateful impulse of her na- 
ture. 

“ This is the chapel door,” said Hester Milburn, 
pausing an instant before entering, to give Nora a 
moment for recollection. The sacred beauty of the 
silent and holy place fell with tranquillizing sweet" 
ness on the excited heart of Nora, who knelt down, 
crossed herself devoutly, and said five “ Hail 
Marys ” for her granny, almost convinced by Hes- 
ter’s logic that it teas the rheumatism, and not a 
bad heart, that made her so cross at times; then she 
said five more for the repose of her father’s soul, 
and five for her mother and little lame Teddy. 

Bessie Shaw took the most bitter dislike to Hes- 
ter Milburn after the incident described in the 
play-room, not so much on account of having been 
interrupted in what she considered her right to have 
some fun at little Nora Kinsella’s expense, as from 
the fact that her meanness and cruelty had been 
witnessed by the girl from whom, of all others in 
the Academy, she would have preferred to conceal 
it. Bessie Shaw had her own set, but they were 
not of the same standing, either in the Academy or 
outside, socially (school girls are never slow in find- 
ing out such matters), as Hester Milburn, with 
whom it was her secret ambition to be or to seem 
intimate ; but neither Bessie or her friends had any- 


22 


TWO WAYS. 


thing in common with Hester, hence there had 
never been anything more than an ordinary speak- 
ing acquaintance between them and herself, not by 
design, or any sense of superiority on her part, but 
because their tastes, aims and habits were exactly 
the reverse of hers. Bessie felt in her heart that all 
hope of intimacy with Hester Milburn was lost by 
her own wilful act, and she determined to revenge 
herself by making a party against her, and do every- 
thing that could be thought of to annoy her and 
her jwotegee, wisely concluding, however, to conceal 
her own agency in whatever was done, and make 
“cat’s-paws ” of her intimates. 

It is an old rule that “birds of a feather flock 
together,” which found no exception in the Acad- 
emy. When the birds are of a bad sort, it makes 
life hard for the good Sisters, whose moral influences 
were of the best over such of the pupils as were dis- 
posed by nature or grace to respond to efforts made 
for their good. Notwithstanding the excellent in- 
fluences reigning, and the admirable rules by which 
this institution was governed, there were among 
the girls many undisciplined natures, whose bad 
traits, only held in check by the dread of punish- 
ment, cropped out in sly, disagreeable ways when 
occasion offered. These faults of character the 
Sisters were not slow to notice, long experience hav- 
ing sharpened their perceptive faculties, and they 
spared no pains in the endeavor to reform them ; 
but what could they do when there was no open in- 
fringement of the rules to take hold of ? How 
gladly and thankfully would they have changed all 
the evil qualities in those committed to their charge. 


A GHOST. 


23 


into good ones, and replaced each unamiable trait 
by a virtue; but, alas! if it is true that “Almighty 
God cannot save a soul without that soul’s consent,” 
how was it possible for his servants to do more than 
watch with vigilance, admonish without ceasing, and 
pray constantly for help in their uphill work? Ap- 
peals to the consciences of the Catholic girls, when 
in fault, very rarely failed to lead them to the confes- 
sional, and to efforts, too often transitory, to con- 
quer their failings; but the case was different with 
the Protestant children generally, of whom there 
was a large number, who had not this “refuge in 
time of trouble ” to fly to. 

Bessie Shaw was not a favorite with the girls gen- 
erally: she had a way of putting on airs, pretended 
to be exclusive, was haughty in her demeanor, and 
talked a great deal about her splendid home in St. 
Louis; but now that she wanted to make a party 
against Hester Milburn, she went about conciliating 
those of her companions whom she had often 
snubbed and slighted, who now, quite flattered by 
her notice, and resembling her in many of their 
traits, were only too ready to make common cause 
with her. Among these was Ada Gray, a Catholic, 
who, being very jealous of Hester Milburn, took the 
lead; but Madge Ward, who was a Protestant — if 
simply not belonging to any special sect makes one 
—and had always admired her with that degree of 
enthusiasm so often found among school-girls, 
while she was attentive to all they had to say, posi- 
tively declined having anything to do with annoying 
Hester Milburn or little Nora, then or thereafter. 
Madge Ward being one of the “nice girls,” Bessie 


24 


TWO WAYS. 


Shaw could not afford to be offended with her, and 
had to be satisfied with her promise not to betray 
them. 

Hester Milburn was all unconscious of their mal- 
ice. She was always occupied and in earnest about 
whatever she was doing; for she had an aim and 
purpose in the future which caused her to apply 
herself to the utmost in improving the educational 
advantages, which her father, who was in straitened 
circumstances, strained every point to give her. 
But however busy she might be, she always found 
time to help others in the difficulties they some- 
times encountered in their studies; and whenever a 
festival that brought them a holiday came, she 
planned their amusements, and in many ingenious 
ways contributed to their pleasures. Now that 
every one was busy making Christmas gifts to send 
or take home, — splendid Afghans, tapestry work 
for sofa-cushions, smoking-caps, crochet-laces, cigar- 
cases, embroidered slippers, and what not be- 
sides, — it was observed that Hester Milburn had no 
fancy work on hand, although it was known that 
she had commenced a handsome Afghan for her 
father (who lived a mile or so out of town, and was 
obliged to drive in and out morning and evening in 
an open buggy), which she had confidently expected 
to finish by Christmas. There were conjectures 
and remarks made, of course, suggestive of various 
reasons: the envious were glad, because her Afghan 
would have been the largest and handsomest made 
that year. Bessie Shaw thought that she was too poor 
to buy worsted to complete it; others said it was a 
great pity, whatever the reason was, that she didn't 


A GHOST . 


25 


go on with it; some were sorry, because they knew 
she had anticipated so much pleasure in presenting 
it to her father; while a few sai 1 they “knew that 
Hester was not whimsical, and if she had deter- 
mined not to finish the Afghan, they were very sure 
she had good reason for it, and it was nobody's 
business." Several of her companions asked her 
outright whether she intended to finish it by Christ- 
mas, but she simply answered “ No," and began to 
talk about something else. But it was observed 
that Hester Milburn spent much of her time at 
recess and recreation with Sister Perpetua in the 
work-room, and whenever any of the girls came 
there for their work-boxes, or. made that an excuse 
for coming just to see if they could find out what 
she was doiug, she was either chatting uncon- 
cernedly with the busy nun, or reading to herself, 
seemingly satisfied to be there a mere looker-on, 
while piles of work lay heaped up around her. 
But that was Hester Milburn's little ruse. The 
truth is, she had got permission to alter a 
brown merino dress of her own, which she 
had outgrown, and some under-clothing for 
Nora Kinsella, that she might be neatly dressed 
in the Christmas holidays, like the rest. Sister 
Perpetua, being a nun and accustomed to abnega- 
tions, did not think it such an extraordinary affair 
that she should give up her own pleasures for the 
sake of another; she did not therefore talk non- 
sense to her about her good act, which would have 
had a natural tendency to cultivate spiritual pride 
and a who-so-good-as-I feeling, but helped her, cut 
out the garments for her, and showed her how to 


26 


TWO WAYS . 


put them together, while she, delighted with the 
novel occupation, had never been so happy in her 
life; at least she thought it was the occupation, but 
I am inclined to think that the motive had some- 
thing to do with the great pleasure it gave her. 
One day, when she was sewing the last hook-and- 
eye on the dress, she thought of poor Nora's coarse, 
patched shoes, and began to turn over in her own 
mind various plans for replacing them by a better 
pair; but nothing that seemed to promise success 
presented itself to her mind, and she had just con- 
cluded with a sigh that the shoes would have to be 
given up, when one of the out-sisters, on her way to 
another part of the building, stepped in and handed 
her a letter, postmarked New York. Hester Mil- 
burn had an old bachelor uncle living in that city, 
who held but scant intercourse with his relatives, 
which fact was owing more to his long separation 
from them, and his isolated habits, than from a 
want of natural affection; and the letter was from 
him, and enclosed a ten-dollar bill, which he desired 
that she might spend on whatever would make her 
most happy at Christmas. It was a great surprise 
to Hester Milburn, and nearly took away her breath; 
then she suddenly thought of Nora Kinsella's shoes, 
and running over to Sister Perpetua, who sat near 
the window for the light, she exclaimed: 

“I can get them! oh, Sister, now I can get them! 
See how much money I have — ten whole dollars! ” 

“ What in the world have you been craving, my 
child, that you are made so happy by getting ten 
dollars?" asked Sister Perpetua, looking through 
her spectacles at Hester in mild surprise. 


A GHOST. 


27 


“ Shoes for Nora Kinsella," said Hester, in a low 
tone, feeling all at once that perhaps she was mak- 
ing too much of a small thing. 

“ Well, I don't know of any one who needs them 
more, my child, and Fm very glad your friends have 
sent you the means to get her a pair," replied the 
matter-of-fact nun. 

“ My uncle in New York sent it to me to spend 
as I please, Sister; and I want you to get Sister 
Dorcas to take it and buy the shoes, and some good 
flannel for skirts, two pairs of stockings, and two 
or three linen collars, and some brown ribbon — " 

“ You have more thair spent the ten dollars, 
Hester; things cost so much money ever since the 
war; and you know, my child, that prices haven't 
gone down yet. But Sister Dorcas is a first-rate 
hand to shop; so just make a list of what you want, 
fold the money in it, and if she can manage to get 
all that you want with ten dollars, she'll do it. You 
go now and send Nora Kinsella to me; I must get 
the measure of her foot, and the length of her skirt. 
I declare! your getting that money is something 
providential; and no doubt our dear Lord put it 
into your uncle's heart to send it, to help clothe 
the naked.' " 

The nuns in Georges Street had known NoraKin- 
sella's mother many years. She had at one period 
been a seamstress in the house, and after that was 
frequently employed by them when occasion de- 
manded extra help. Having always found her to 
be a truly pious Christian, — honest, energetic, and, 
according to her means, charitable, — they became 
interested in her, and, as the years went by, at- 


28 


TWO WAYS. 


taehed to her; so that when she was left a widow, 
without means, with broken health, and the addi- 
tional burden of a lame, deformed child to take 
care of, they were deeply touched by her patient 
resignation and brave efforts to help herself, and 
offered to educate Nora to fit her for a governess or 
school-teacher after she graduated. She was very 
thankful, but did not at first accept the kind offer, 
her decent Irish pride and her deep mother-love for 
her little girl being the cause of her hesitation. But 
the wolf came to her door at last, — ill-health and 
want. She had done her utmost, and failed, and 
the time arrived when her little home was broken 
up; then, with many a tear and heartache, Nora 
was sent to Georges Street, and she herself, with 
lame Teddy, removed to her mother’s in the coun- 
try, to whose home she had been urgently invited to 
come, from time to time, ever since the death of her 
husband. 

We have seen why Nora attached herself from the 
very first to Hester Milburn, making her advances 
in so many shy, affectionate ways, that Hester could 
not find it in her heart to repulse her, until at last, 
touched by her friendless condition, and the con- 
stant snubs she got from many of the girls, she 
made it known pretty plainly that she was Nora 
Kinsella’s friend, and whoever meddled unkindly 
with her she should consider unfriendly to herself. 

“ High and mighty!” exclaimed Bessie Shaw to 
her set the day this was reported, and they were all 
talking it over, “ as if it was a royal honor to have 
her notice us, and to be threatened with the loss of 
it if that little Irish beggar is meddled with! ” Of 


A GHOST. 


29 


course her satellites chimed in with her, and she 
distributed more than usual largesse of bon-bons 
that morning. That afternoon the same party were 
observed in close confab whispering, and, at inter- 
vals, laughing immoderately; the next day it was 
the same thing, and the outsiders wondered what 
mischief was afoot; but no conspirators ever kept 
their own counsel better. Madge Ward had a hint 
that they were going to be even with Hester Mil- 
burn " in some way or other; but having told them 
to “ keep their secrets to themselves," she went to 
the music-room, half inclined to go straight to Hes- 
ter Milburn, to put her on her guard. “ But then 
Hester Milburn is always so cold and distant," she 
thought, “she might imagine I was trying to curry 
favor with her, and, besides, it would be mean to go 
and tell tales." .Then she sat down to the piano to 
practice a nocturn of Chopin's, and falling into a 
pleasant train of thought connected with the com- 
ing festivities at home, she forgot all about Bessie 
Shaw and Hester Milburn. Meanwhile, like the 
little brown bird that attends the cuckoo, flying 
when she flies, resting only when her mistress and 
queen rests, Nora Kinsella hovered about her friend, 
never obtrusive, but always near, patiently wait- 
ing for a word or smile, and supremely satisfied 
when it came. 

For a few days nothing happened to interrupt 
the monotony of the daily routine of the Academy, 
except that Wednesday intervened, a clear, glorious 
winter day, and Bessie Shaw got permission to take 
a drive with one of her friends, whose aunt came 
for her in their own handsome carriage, with ser- 


BO 


TWO WAYS. 


vants in livery on the box, and invited her to ac- 
company them. When driving down the main 
business avenue of the town, Bessie asked permis- 
sion to get out a moment at a drug store, to buy 
some drops for a toothache, which had kept her 
very much awake of nights lately. Her request 
was promptly complied witlv accompanied by some 
kind expressions of sympathy, and Bessie, with her 
friend, ran- into the store, where she made her pur- 
chase, slipping the small package the apothecary 
gave her, instantly into her pocket. Both girls, 
being in high glee, stood for a moment or so at the 
store door, looking up and down like two uncaged 
birds, wishing for, but not daring a wider flight, 
when they caught sight of John Shirley and Guy 
Carlton, — two of the college boys who had sisters at 
the Academy, — coming towards them. Both the 
lads bowed civilly and passed on; but Bessie Shaw, 
not contented with giving them a saucy nod, tossed, 
a kiss from the tips of her fingers to John Shirley, 
which had the effect of making his neck and ears, 
and it is to be supposed his face too, — which, how- 
ever, he turned away, so quickly that it was impos- 
sible to see it, — the color of a boiled lobster. He 
was a talented youth, and daring enough among 
lads of his own years, but the sight of a girl would 
put him to instant rout. In fact, so shy was the 
handsome, awkward fellow, that he rarely availed 
himself of the privilege of going to see. his sister on 
Sundays, the day allowed for the brothers of the 
girls who were at college to visit them. On one of 
these occasions Bessie Shaw happened to be in the 
parlor with her father’s business agent, who had 


A GHOST. 


31 


called to day that he would start for St. Louis that 
night, and inquire if she had messages for home, 
which of course she had, with a special request also 
for money to be sent her to spend during the holi- 
days, and was glad that he seemed to be in quite a 
hurry, for she had made up her mind to linger there 
after he left, to get an introduction to Annie Shir- 
ley’s brother, in which she was successful; but he, 
suddenly remembering that he had an “engagement 
with one of the fellows,” bowed himself out of the 
parlor, and cramming his cap on with the vizor 
hanging down over the back of his neck, rushed off, 
feeling as if he had had a prickly pear rubbed all 
over him. And now to have a kiss tossed at him on 
the public sidewalk from Bessie’s saucy lips so com- 
pletely demoralized him, that he stumbled over a 
small boot-black, who was importuning him to let 
him “ shine his boots,” upsetting him, box, brushes 
and all, into the gutter, narrowly escaping the fate 
of going after him by a sudden loss of balance. In 
an instant the young fraction of Africa raised such 
a noisy row, that a crowd immediately collected, 
one or two policemen came up, ladies stopped to 
inquire “ who was hurlj ” carts began to block the 
streets, their drivers vociferating, “go at 'em, 
boot-ee,” while in the centre of the group stood 
John Shirley, covered with . confusion at being 
made, so unpleasantly, an object of public atten- 
tion, confronted by the grotesque, howling figure of 
the boot-black. The lad would have liked to strike 
out and fight all round; a real Berserker rage began 
to fume in him, when his companion, Guy Carlton, 
who had laughed until he nearly lost his breath at 


32 


TWO WAYS. 


the scene, whispered, “ Give him a dollar, Jack, and 
come along.” The advice was salutary; the whole 
affair had come up so suddenly that John Shirley, 
having lost his head, never thought of offering 
money to appease the wrath of the little negro; but 
the moment it was suggested he saw his way clear, 
and tossing three or four fifty-cent notes to him, 
which he ceased howling to clutch, the crowd 
opened and the collegians passed on. 

“I hate girls!” he blurted out. 

Come now. Jack, it wasn't a girl, 'twas a boot- 
black,” replied his chum, laughing. 

“ What did she go and kiss her fingers at me for? I 
don't even know her name. I only saw her the other 
Sunday in the convent parlor, when I went to see my 
sister,” he growled. “ She’s just kept me from the 
matinee, and I was nigh crazy to hear Nilsson.” 

“Oh, come along, and don't be such a quarrel- 
some old frump; why can't you go to the matinee? 
The idea of making all this row because a pretty 
girl tossed a kiss to you! ” said Guy Carlton. 

“Didn't I give all my money to that scare-crow? 
Two dollars!” he shouted. 

“ Don't snout so loud, J^k. What did yon give 
him all that for?” 

“ I'd have given fifty dollars, if it had been in my 
pocket, to get out of that. I never saw such a pert, 
saucy jade in my life.” He could n.’t get over it, 
until his companion plunged with him into an ice- 
cream saloon, and led the way to a corner table, 
half hidden by a deep projection of the wall, where 
he recovered his equanimity and got cooled off with 
hunks of fruit-cake, frozen cream, and salad, the 


A GHOST. 


33 


treat offered by his college-mate, who always com- 
pensated his much-aggrieved stomach, when out on a 
half-holiday, for the Spartan-like simplicity of col- 
lege fare, by feasting until the last penny of his al- 
lowance gave out. 

The two girls, having hastened back to the car- 
riage, were driven off in an opposite direction, and 
consequently missed seeing the finale of their ad- 
venture, and the mischief caused by Bessie Shaw’s 
thoughtless act, which would only have afforded her 
intense amusement had she witnessed it, and con- 
firmed her determination to tease John Shirley, 
whenever she saw him, into a regular flirtation. 

On Friday night following, — this was on Wed- 
nesday, recollect, — something dreadful happened, 
which spread consternation throughout the con- 
vent. It occurred in the south dormitory, about 
midnight, when even Sister Agnese, the good nun 
who slept there to keep order and he near the girls 
in case of illness or fright, wa£ buried i,h .profound 
slumber. There was no light except the faint glim- 
mer of the taper, the merest point of light, that 
burned upon the Oratory before the image of our 
Blessed Lady, at the far end of the long apartment ; 
the white curtains of the alcoves were all closed ; a 
sound of low, long-drawn breathing was heard from 
the sleepers within them, and now and then a 
drowsy humming of 'the wind around the angles of 
the building. How peaceful and quiet the scene ! 
It is easy to imagine that here, at this deep hour of 
the night, when all these young souls were wrapped 
in healthful slumbers, their Angel Guardians might 
find some respite from their ceaseless vigilance ; but 


34 


TWO WAYS. 


of a sudden a wild shriek pierces the silence, and 
awakes every sleeper there ; Sister Agnese springs 
out of her cell, and the dormitory resounds with 
screams, sobs, and cries from the terrified girls, 
who were rushing from their alcoves in the wildest 
panic. Sister Agnese lights the gas and in quiet 
tones commands silence, but vainly ; two other 
nuns from the infirmary, who were up with a pa- 
tient and heard the cries, now come in, and a search 
begins to find out the cause of the alarm. Begin- 
ning at the lower end of the dormitory, every alcove 
is searched : under the beds, in the curtain fold, 
behind the blinds of the deep-set 'windows, until 
they came to Nora Kinsella’s. Sister Agnese draws 
back the curtain, and there, lying upon the floor, 
she sees the poor child in strong convulsions ! 

“ She was frightened in her sleep, poor little 
thing! "said Sister Agnese, lifting the convulsed 
form in her arms. “Go to bed, children; it is 
nothing «biit Nora Kin^elkt with the nightmare." 
The Sister Infirinarians ‘th-ink differently, but say 
nothing at present, seeing how necessary it is that 
the frightened inmates of the dormitory should get 
composed ; they only aid Sister Agnese in bearing 
the convulsed child to the small infirmary, in which 
there happens to be no other patient, where they 
do all and whatever their long-skilled experience 
teaches them for her relief. 

“It was not nightmare," they say to Sister 
Agnese ; “ nightmare does not produce convulsions. 
The child has had a dreadful shock." 

So she had. She had seen a ghost — a real, awful 
ghost — she thought. 


CHAPTER III. 


HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO HORA. 

By day-dawn, Hr. Halford, the attending physi- 
cian of the Georges Street Convent, was sent for to 
see Nora Kiusella. He came without delay, know- 
ing, by long experience, that to be summoned at so 
early an hour, and in such haste, meant that his 
services must be urgently needed. The convulsions 
had subsided, but the patient had not shown the 
least sign of consciousness, and continued in a deep, 
leaden slumber, her breathing very slow, and at in- 
tervals difficult. Dr. Halford lifted her eyelids, and 
saw that the pupils of her eyes were unnaturally di- 
lated ; then, with his fingers on her sluggish pulse, 
he heard all that Sister Perpetua could tell him of 
her case. Then patiently questioning her, he 
learned that Nora had never had an hour's sickness 
in her life, — that she was of a robust, brave and 
hardy temperament; and his verdict was, “that 
she had received, somehow, a great mental shock, 
either by means of a terribly vivid dream, or a de- 
ceptive appearance of some kind, which at present 
could not be accounted for." He ordered the strict- 
est quiet, and hoped that she would sleep off all ill 
effects, in which case no reference whatever was to 
be made to what had happened, either by question 
or otherwise; but if fever came on, he feared that 


36 


TWO WAYS. 


the case would be a serious one. Fever and de- 
lirium did come on ; and it was only by certain 
things the poor child uttered in her ravings, 
which she repeated over and over again, with every 
symptom of the wildest terror, that Sister Perpetua 
and the assistant infirmarian could foryn an idea of 
the cause of her illness ; but even then it was so 
enveloped in mystery, they were led almost beyond 
reasonable conjecture, and had no resource except 
the blessed sign of the cross, and a fervent faith in 
the goodness of Almighty God, into whose safe and 
tender keeping they commended the stricken one. 

All that escaped Nora, in disjointed sentences, 
yet ever the same in ceaseless repetition, was but 
the reflex on her memory of an actual occurrence, 
which had burnt itself on her brain with such vivid- 
ness that not even the wande. ings of delirium could 
efface it. I will tell you just here, from what was 
gathered by snatches afterwards, how it was when 
her sudden shrieks rang through the dormitory that 
night, awaking the soundest sleepers with a cold, 
vague dread of something horrible. Nora had a 
healthy way of falling asleep almost as soon as her 
head touched her pillow. She did so on that night, 
and fell to dreaming of her mother and Teddy. 
She thought it was spring-time, and that she was 
with them in the country. She and Teddy were 
under the great old apple-tree ; he lying on the 
grass, she sitting near by, stringing butter-cups ; 
both of them listening to the sweet whistle of the 
blue-birds flying to and fro far above them, while 
every breath of wind brought the leaves of the 
apple-blossoms drifting down over them like tinted 


HOW CUE I STM AS CAME TO NOEA. 


3? 


snowflakes. She thought they were very happy, she 
and Teddy, and that he, lying there looking up 
through the green boughs, had said : “ The white 
clouds that are chasing each other over the blue 
fields of the sky look like a flock of sheep at play.” 
And when she lifted up her head to take a look at 
Teddy’s sheep, there had come a sudden flash, then 
darkness, followed by another sharp glare of light, 
so close to her eyes this time that she distinctly felt 
the heat of the flame, which, whatever it was, had 
singed her long eyelashes. Then she started up, 
thinking she had been having a very funny sort of a 
dream, for everything was still and dark around 
her. Not in the least frightened, she was getting 
ready to cuddle herself under the bed-clothes again, 
when she heard a rustling at the foot of her cot, 
and thought perhaps one of the girls had been walk- 
ing in her sleep, and straggled into her alcove ; or 
that the kitchen cat had strayed beyond her bounds, 
and hidden herself underneath her cot ; if so, she 
would take old Tabby in to sleep with her for the 
rest of the night. 

Thoughts, you know T , fly swiftly through one’s 
mind, and these could not .have been more than the 
fraction of a minute passing through Nora Kin- 
sella’s, when, on a sudden, a figure in a white wind- 
ing-sheet, with a ghastly luminous face, rose up at 
the foot of her cot, and glided towards her with 
outstretched, fiery hands, as if to seize her, its great 
motionless eyes, surrounded by red rings, staringly 
fixed upon her. Petrified, at first, with horror, she 
could not utter a sound ; but as it stood close by 
her, and began to bend down over her, she shrieked 


38 


TWO WAYS. 


in an agony of terror, and it disappeared as quickly 
as if it had sunk through the floor. Nora sprang 
from her cot to rush somewhere to somebody, for 
protection, — she did not define where, or to whom, 
but she fell to the floor, where, if you remember. 
Sister Agnese found her. Not even her sturdy 
peasant constitution could stand such a shock as 
this, and for some days thereafter her chances for 
life or death were evenly balanced. “ She has her 
youth and a strong constitution in her favor/’ was 
the only encouragement the doctor gave, and with 
this Sister Perpetua and others had to be con- 
tented. Meanwhile a searching investigation fol- 
lowed, to discover, if possible, who had been so 
wicked or thoughtless as to play so cruel a trick on 
the poor child. Every pupil who slept in the south 
dormitory was separately questioned, but to no pur- 
pose. Nothing unusual was discovered, except 
that two or three burnt matches were picked up 
near the door of Sister Agnese’s cell; no matches 
were ever allowed in the dormitory, and it was very 
certain that the good nun did not throw them there. 
Who did? That day, about noon, when the younger 
girls were skipping about in the court for exercise, 
one of them saw something glittering on the grass- 
plot, where the grass, although it was December, 
lay green, and ran to see what it was, hoping to 
find a treasure, such mimic sun-rays did it fling 
out; but it was only a small glass vial, with part of 
a torn label sticking on one of its sides, on which 
the printed letters onus were distinctly visible. 
The child said nothing about it, never dreaming 
that a common medicine vial could be of the least 


HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO NORA. 


39 


consequence, but from habit dropped it into her 
pocket, already stuffed with odds and ends, such as 
most school-girls delight in. But while she was in 
grammar class an hour or two afterwards, she drew 
out her handkerchief in a hurry, when the vial 
came with it, bouncing and ringing upon the floor. 
Even so small a thing as this is sufficient to create 
distraction in class when recitations are going on, 
and Sister Agnese directed one of the girls nearest to 
it to fetch the vial to her; she merely glanced at it, 
and dropped it into her pocket, in the depth of 
which it remained forgotten, until a time came 
which cleared up the mystery about the ghost, when 
it was remembered and produced, — the only link 
that was wanting to establish facts. 

That the secret of Nora Kinsella’s fright was 
known to two or three guilty hearts in the Academy, 
you already suspect; but the instinct of self-preser- 
vation, now that the affair had gone so far beyond 
what they intended, made them preserve a guarded 
silence, and even to utter positive falsehood, when 
questioned, with the rest, about their knowledge of 
it. They well knew that disgrace and expulsion 
would follow discovery; and then, if Nora Kins'ella 
should die, of which there was a strong probability, 
who could tell what terrible consequences might fol- 
low? Hence this clique were very quiet and sub- 
dued whilst Nora’s life was in danger; and now 
there were none more assiduous than they in mak- 
ing daily inquiries at the infirmary door, one or two 
of them actuated by sincere compunction, the rest 
simply dreading results. Hester Milburn and 
Annie Shirley went frequently to inquire of Sister 


40 


TWO WAYS. 


Perpetua about her patient, the first thing in the 
morning, and the last thing at night; full of deep 
concern, they were there, hoping, each time, to 
learn that there was a change for the better. They 
begged to be allowed to help to nurse her, but 
“there’s no need of that now,” Sister Perpetua 
said; “perhaps, if she gets better, I will let you 
come in by turns, to sit with her sometimes.” 
Madge Ward brought flowers, Havana oranges, 
and white grapes, which were sent her in abun- 
dance from her own home, to offer Nora, who was 
yet all unconscious of the sweet, friendly sympathy 
of the girls, some of whom, but a short time ago, 
had looked upon her with indifference, and had 
scarcely noticed her at all. Hester Milburn was 
struck by the unobtrusive kindness and good-nature 
of Madge Ward, of whom she had seen but little 
heretofore, they being in different classes, but she 
determined to know her better after the holidays. 
Quite a number of the Catholic girls united with 
Hester Milburn in a novena for Nora’s recovery; 
and Father Bolton did not forget the bright-faced 
little Irish girl in his Masses, whom he remembered 
having seen in her humble home during the last 
weeks of her father’s life. Meanwhile the Christ- 
mas excitement, checked by what had happened, 
renewed itself again with increased zest, after the 
first shock. 

At length, one day, the tenth from the date of 
her illness, Nora opened her eyes, in possession of 
all her faculties, but bereft of strength. She 
noticed that the sun was high in the heavens. “ It 
must be about twelve o’clock,” she thought, and 


70 IV CHRISTMAS CAME TO NORA. 


41 


wondered what she was doing a-bed so late, and in 
a strange room. She feared that the Sisters would 
be displeased with her, and attempted to rise, but 
she fell back upon her pillow with a sensation as if 
she were sinking down into the depths of the earth. 
Hearing a movement in the direction of that hith- 
erto silent bed. Sister Perpetua, who was kneeling 
by the window saying the Angelas, turned her head 
towards it, fearing and hoping. She was by the 
bedside in an instant, and saw liow it was; then 
she bathed Nora’s face with cologne, and adminis- 
tered some nourishing stimulant kept ready by the 
doctor’s orders, in expectation of this critical 
awakening. 

“ I’m sorry I slept so late. Sister,” whispered the 
white lips; “ please don’t be angry ! ” 

“ You have not overslept yourself, my child, but 
you have been sick, and must keep very quiet,” 
answered Sister Perpetua, smoothing her hand. 

“Am I sick ? I don’t feel sick, only heavy , — my 
hands and all,” she whispered, with a shadow of a 
smile upon her face. But Sister Perpetua had 
turned away, to close an inside shutter to darken 
the room, then stepped outside the door to place a 
bowl and one or two medicine vials on a table that 
stood there for the purpose; and when she came 
back, with noiseless step, she saw that Nora’s eyes 
were closed, and that she had fallen into a slumber 
unlike that which had wrapped her senses in uncon- 
sciousness all this time, but a soft, healthful sleep, 
full of the promise of recovery. She took her chair 
and placed herself near the door, where she could 
keep her eyes on her charge, and at the same time 


42 


TWO WAYS. 


whisper the good news to such as came; some one 
was always coming to inquire, “ How is Nora now. 
Sister?” With a sigh of satisfaction Sister Per- 
petua resumed her sewing, which had been laid, 
aside, thankful, indeed, that there was now no sad. 
reason why it should be longer neglected. Hester 
and Annie begged just to take a peep at Nora, prom- 
ising not to make the least noise, but the good 
Sister was positive; the doctor had been there, and 
would not go in, so well satisfied was he with Sister 
Perpetual account of the improved condition of his 
patient, and of course no one else could be admitted; 
but she promised them they should see her in a day 
or two, on condition that no allusion was to be made 
to the incidents of that dreadful night; this Hr. 
Halford insisted upon strictly, lest the reminding 
her of them should affect her brain even more per- 
manently and fatally than at first. 

“ I'm so glad the little wretch did not die,” said 
Bessie Shaw that evening, at recreation, to Ada 
Gray, one of her sworn friends of the clique. 

“ Maybe she'll remember something, ajid tell,” 
suggested Ada Gray, maliciously. 

“ How could she? Pm sure she hasn't the least 
suspicion that it wasn't a real ghost. I'm done 
with her , but I've got an account to settle yet with 
that proud minx, Hester Milburn. See if I don't be 
even with her yet?” 

“ What has she done to you now? ” 

“ Hone? Don't you see how thick she is with 
Annie Shirley? I know she's been telling her 
things of me, because she's so cool to me.” 

“ I shouldn't wonder, for Annie Shirley never 


HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO NORA. 


43 


comes near any of us now, but I reckon we'll live all 
the same ! Her slights won't kill me, for one ! " 

“ I wanted so much to be invited to the Shirleys 
when I go out this holiday; but if Miss Milburn is 
going home with her friend, I don't expect to be. 
It would be such fun to tease Jack Shirley." 

“ Pshaw ! never mind ! we'll have just as nice a 
time at Madge Ward's. You know that Guy Carl- 
ton and two or three sophs from the college visit 
there." 

“But, you know," drawled Bessie Shaw, “that 
the Wards don't go in the same set the Shirleys do. 
They're very rich, I know, but they're only getting 
into good society now." 

“ There's the bell ! Gracious* me ! I don't know 
one word of my chemistry," exclaimed Ada Gray, 
hurrying off. 

There was a large number of innocent, devout 
Catholic girls at the Academy, also many Prot- 
estant ones, who, well-principled and honorable, 
would have disdained a bad or mean act; and who, 
although differing in religious belief from their 
teachers and companions, never offended the one by 
a disrespectful manner in chapel, or the others by 
repeating slanders they had heard against the 
Church before they came there. When, in after 
years, a good Jesuit Father we wot of received sev- 
eral of these young people into the Church, he de- 
clared his firm belief that their baptismal innocence 
had remained unsullied, preserved, no doubt, by the 
example and sacred influences that surrounded their 
earlier years in the Georges Street Convent; but, as 
we have shown you, there were exceptions to these 


44 


TWO WAYS. 


facts. It was thought, and generally understood, 
when Bessie Shaw first came there three years 
before, that she was a Catholic, but she denied it, — 
at first faintly, and with indifference, but after- 
wards angrily and decidedly. Ada Gray had no 
religious training whatever, no fixed principles of 
belief; she knew, she said, that God had created 
her, and that His Son had died for the salvation of 
the world, which was enough for her, and she 
wasn’t going to make herself miserable about it. 
There were also some careless Catholics there, who 
attended to their religious duties as a matter of 
routine obligatory upon them in this institution, if 
they desired to stand well, but I am happy to say 
the bad elements here were the exception instead of 
the rule. And now Christmas being actually at 
hand, the chapel was much frequented by those 
who, in all humble and devout sincerity, were pre- 
paring a place in their hearts for the Divine Babe of 
Bethlehem; also by others who only seemed to pre- 
pare, who went there and to confession because it 
would have looked odd for them to have stayed 
away, whose thoughts were fixed on how they would 
look Christmas morning, and how they would sing, 
and how gracefully they would approach the Sanc- 
tuary, and kneel to receive Holy Communion. 
One or two of Bessie Shaw’s intimates were of this 
class, — intimates, but not confidants ; had they been, 
the searching ordeal, and the restraints of the con- 
fessional, would have taught them their danger, 
and how to avoid it. Notwithstanding the religious 
preparations for Christmas, there was a deal of inno- 
cent merriment going on in the hours of recreation; 


1I0W CHRISTMAS CAME TO NORA. 45 

but one could note that there was also a watchful- 
ness and recollectedrfess with it, which proved that 
these young, happy creatures did not forget, in a 
spirit of levity, the joyful Solemnity of the Divine 
Nativity, so near at hand. 

On Christmas day Nora Kinsella was well enough 
to sit up in bed, leaning contentedly back against 
her pillow. Oh, how she would like to have risen, 
to array herself in that pretty brown merino dress, 
and put on her new morocco boots, wdth buttons all 
down the sides, and that nice alpaca apron trimmed 
with braid, and the linen collars and cuffs, and that 
lovely ribbon for her neck! Such a wealth of 
clothes! and just such as the others wore! No med- 
icine could have done her the good and advanced 
her recovery so much as the sight and possession of 
these treasures did! Presently Annie Shirley came 
in, bringing her a wax doll that opened and shut 
its eyes, beautifully dressed, which rendered her de- 
light speechless, for never had she seen anything 
half so splendid; never had she dreamed, in her past 
happiness over her rag-babies, that she would ever 
arrive at a felicity like this. Madge Ward left a 
little workbox for her, with scissors, thimble, need- 
les and cotton in it, and scraps of silk of every color, 
and four marvellous French bon-bons. One brought 
her a story-book, and another a paint-box; and noth- 
ing could surpass the quiet intensity of her en- 
joyment over her things, which was somewhat 
clouded by hearing that most of the girls were going- 
home immediately after breakfast, and she would be 
obliged to wait until they came back to thank them; 
no, not all, for the very one she most loved came in 


46 


TWO WAYS. 


presently, to tell her that her father, who had been 
there for her, had given his permission for her to 
remain a few days longer to finish something. 

“Ah, then. Miss, Fm so glad!” said Nora, fold- 
ing her hands, and leaning back with a look of quiet 
happiness in her face. “ Is it the Afghan, Miss? ” 

“ Yes, partly that,” said Hester, holding her 
hands between her own. “Do you know that you 
look like a fairy god-mother, going to see her favor- 
ite children, with all these pretty things strewed 
around you? I wonder if you will fly off on a broom- 
stick, Nora?” 

“And sure. Miss, Dr. Halford 'd be after me if I 
tried to,” she said, with a merry little laugh. “ Oh, 
Miss, it is so good to have you here, for I want to 
tell you about the dreadful thing I saw that night!” 
There was an intense look in her dilated eyes, which 
warned her friend of danger. 

“ You had a dreadful dream, Nora, and had best 
forget it,” replied Hester, gently. 

“But it wasn't a dream! No, Miss Hester, it 
wasn't a dream, for I was wide awake, sitting up in 
bed, when it came, and I saw it as plain as I see you, 
with fiery face, and fiery hands, coming to seize me 
like a hawk does a chicken. I forget the rest.” 

Hester asked no questions, and directed Nora's 
thoughts quickly into another channel, by telling 
her about the midnight Mass; how solemn and 
lovely everything looked, and how sweetly the Adeste 
Fideles was sung. She listened with pleased atten- 
tion to all that Hester described; but as soon as she 
ceased speaking, she again returned to the previous 
subject. 


HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO NORA. 


47 


“ Do you think, Miss, they’ll make me sleep there 
again all by myself? ” she said. 

“ No, little woman! you are to sleep in the alcove 
between me and Annie Shirley, with the curtains up 
between.” 

“ Ah, that’s good! I think I should be scared to 
death in that one; but just look at the beautiful things 
Miss Madge Ward sent me before she went away!” 

The happy child, her mind relieved of the shadow 
that had been brooding over it, about going back to 
her old alcove to sleep, now displayed her various 
gifts, especially her work-box, and the French kisses, 
which were profusely covered with beautiful designs 
in flowers and gilt fret-work. On the largest was a 
rose, with a velvet-winged butterfly poised above it, 
that glistened and quivered, as if alive, at the slight- 
est motion, which appeared to delight her immeas- 
urably. 

“That,”' she said, eying it fondly, “ is for my 
poor Teddy; this one. Miss, with the babe in the 
crib, and the angel watching, is for mother; this 
one, with daisies and shamrocks in this cunning lit- 
tle gold basket, is for granny; and here, Miss, the 
beautifullest of ’em all is for you, to keep for my 
sake. That guardian angel is you, and that little 
child, that you’re leading away from the ugly toad, 
is me.” Full of her pretty fancies, she held the 
beautiful trifle towards Hester, who, fearing to 
wound her, would not refuse it. 

“But you leave nothing for yourself, Nora.” 

“ Ah, Miss, it makes me happier so. I give them 
away, yet somehow I keep them all here,” she an- 
swered, laying her hand upon her heart. 


48 


TWO WAYS. 


“ I will keep it always, for your sake,” said Hes- 
ter. 

“ Oh, Miss Hester, Fm so thankful to everybody,” 
she said, musingly, “ but you stood by me from the 
first, and I shall be so drefful lonesome when you go 
home.” 

“ Suppose you come with me? ” 

“Oh! me. Miss? Do you mean it for true? ” she 
said, clasping her hands, while her face flushed with 
delight. 

“ Certainly I do; Dr. Halford says so, and Sister 
Perpetua — Sister Agnese — all of them say it will do 
you good to have a change; and as my mother has 
written me word that I may bring you, you are to 
go.” 

“Oh, Miss Hester! this is the fastest Christmas 
gift of all; it's next to going home to my own 
mammy and Teddy!” she exclaimed, after waiting a 
little while as if to take it all in. “But when?” 

“ In two or three days, when you are stronger,” 
said Hester, enjoying as much as Nora the happi- 
ness she had just given her; “ Fm going to try very 
hard to finish the Afghan, and I have permission to 
sit here and work.” 

Happiness and hope are powerful tonics, and 
health soon came with them, hand in hand, to Nora. 
In two more days she was up and dressed. Then, 
with bright, happy faces around her, — for many of 
the pupils at the Academy from the far West and 
South remained during the holidays, and had per- 
mission to come in and out as they liked, bringing 
their pretty Christmas-boxes that had come from 
their distant homes to show her, — made much of by 


UO)V CHRISTMAS CAME TO NORA. 


49 


the gentle nuns, with nothing to recall unpleasant 
or painful things, and her “goodest of all friends,” 
most of the time in sight and hearing, Nora rapidly 
regained strength and elasticity, and was soon pro- 
nounced by Dr. Halford well enough to undertake 
the little journey. 

But a difficulty now arose. As usual in this cli- 
mate, the weather had remained pleasant up to 
Christmas; there had been frequent flurries of snow, 
which melted almost as soon as it fell; the grass was 
as green as in spring; winter roses and chrysanthe- 
mums were a-bloom in the open air; when all at 
once winter came down from the frozen North, in 
such a tempest of sleet and snow, and it became so 
bitterly cold that Hester feared disappointment for 
poor little Nora, who had been looking forward to 
her visit with indescribable delight. The storm con- 
tinued two days and nights — a white, blinding storm, 
that seemed as if it would never stop until they -were 
all buried under the snow — while the wind raved and 
tore around the great old building, shaking loose the 
lightning-rods, toppling down bricks from the 
chimneys, and slates from the roofs, rattling like 
ghostly drummers against the windows, and howl- 
ing down the chimneys and flues in a way that made 
one's heart quake with fear and expectation of what 
would come next. Hester Milburn knew, that 
wrapped up in furs and heavy sleigh-robes, she would 
not only be able to stand the cold, but would heartily 
enjoy it; but as for Nora, just over a spell of ill- 
ness, it was agreed that it would be too great a risk 
for her if the bitter weather continued after the 
storm subsided. On the twenty-ninth of December 


50 


TWO WAYS. 


the sun arose as clear and brilliant as if he had been 
off somewhere to a fete, and just got back to attend 
to his business. There was not a cloud to be seen; 
and the air was as clear and still as crystal, but 
the cold was piercing. Outside lay, unbroken, the 
dazzling snow in waves and mounds, as the wind 
had drifted it, while the trees, loaded with it — sign 
of a fruitful year — looked exactly as if some giant 
artificer might have carved them out of marble. 
The men from the farm, with Michael Callahan, the 
manager, came down to clear out the courts, and 
make paths in various directions about the grounds. 
It was a fine sight to Nora to watch them from 
the window shovelling off the snow, tossing it here 
and there in great heaps, and occasionally, as if by 
accident, tripping one another into a deep drift. 
It was holiday-time and the Sisters took no notice of 
their pranks. Then, about noon, the hardy West- 
ern girls got leave to wrap up and go out, for a 
snow-ball match with each other. The pelting was 
spirited, and the fun riotous; such peals of laugh- 
ter, such merry shouts, such rosy cheeks, as the 
large, soft snow-balls shot home on face, head, back 
or breast, as they were aimed! Nora laughed until 
she could scarcely stand, especially enchanted to see 
that Hester Milburn, always in the thick of the fray 
took the lead, and never failed of her aim. Alto- 
gether it was too busy and happy a day to allow re- 
grets; but when the next day, full as happy, only 
more quiet, slipped by, and no message or letter 
came to her from home, Hester began to fidget a 
little, and wondered what could be the matter. 

“Nothing, you may be sure, my child,” said Sis- 


BOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO NORA. 


51 


ter Perpetua, with whom she had been having a 
quiet little chat; “they know there's been no 
weather fit to take Nora out in an open sleigh, and 
they are only waiting for it to moderate a little, to 
avoid disappointing her." 

“ That would be just like my mother and father," 
responded Hester, gently; “I expect that is the, 
true reason. I am so glad that I have had time to 
finish my Afghan, for I know how delighted father 
will be to get it! " 

Who should come tripping in quite early, the 
next day, but Annie Shirley, to see for herself, she 
said, “ if they had all been buried under the snow, 
and if not, how everybody was." She tossed a great 
orange and two beautiful rosy apples into Nora's 
lap, then told Hester she wanted to speak to her for 
a moment, if they could go into another room. Of 
course they could} and the two girls went out 
together to one of the music-rooms, when Annie 
Shirley told her that “her real business, there that 
day was to offer, in her mamma's name, and with 
her love, the close family carriage, to convey herself 
and Nora to 'Oak Grove,' if she would accept it." 

“Thankfully," replied Hester, “ but the roads — " 

“ The roads are beaten down as hard as marble, 
Jack told me this morning, and nobody thinks of 
anything but sleighing. Jack and Guy Carlton 
were out yesterday all day, and ought to know 
about the. roads; besides, Twant our driver to find 
the way to your place, for I'm coming to see you be- 
fore long," said the warm-hearted girl. 

“I should like the sleigh best for myself, — but I 
am very grateful to you, Annie, for your kindness," 


52 


TWO WAYS. 


replied Hester, afraid that her hesitation had seemed 
a little ungracious, when her real motive was to 
avoid giving trouble. 

“ That's right; and mamma says she'll send her 
tin foot-warmer, which must be filled with boiling 
water, to keep your and Nora's feet comfortable." 

“ Thank your mamma for me, will you? I'm so 
very glad that Nora will be able to go so comfort- 
ably, and without risk of taking cold," answered 
Hester, pressing Annie's hand and kissing her 
cheek. 

“ Now we'll go back. I want to have a chat with 
Sister Perpetua and Sister Agnese, and whoever of 
the dear nuns I can find. I didn't propose the use 
of the carriage before the girls, because I don't like 
to parade things, and I was afraid, too, you might 
refuse it, you're such an odd girl about accepting 
favors." 

“That depends! " said Hester, laughing. “But 
now that I come to think of it, most of the nuns 
went into a Retreat to-day." 

“Some other time, then; I wish I could persuade 
some of them to go sleigh-riding; it would do them 
good." 

“Suppose you invite them!" 

“Oh, I know it's impossible, but I should like it 
all the same, the dear souls!" 

Sister Perpetua had not joined the Retreat, her 
special duties not allowing it at this, time; and 
when the two girls got back to the infirmary, she 
was there. 


CHAPTER IV. 


A SURPRISE. 

Annie Shirley was one of the girls whom Sister 
Perpetua entirely approved of and liked; she was 
therefore very glad to see her. Hester immediately 
told her of Mrs. Shirley's kind olfer of her carriage, 
to take Nora and herself home the next day. “Not 
only the close, comfortable carriage, hut a foot- 
wanner into the bargain." 

“Excellent! Nothing could be better. I’m sure 
it was very kind of your dear mother to think of 
our little invalid," said the good nun, who was not 
only glad that Nora would be gratified without risk, 
but that she would be able, as soon as she went 
away, to enter the Retreat. 

'“I suppose you are all very gay in the world?" 
observed Sister Perpetua. 

“Extravagantly so; and there's nothing done by 
grown-up people in society that school-girls don't 
do too; dressing, dancing, flirting, and all the rest. 
You just ought to hear how Jack goes on over it!" 
replied Annie, laughing. 

“Do you enjoy it very much, Annie?" asked 
Hester, quietly. 

“I can hardly tell you. I see and hear a great 
many funny things; why, you'd think the girls 
would tear each other's eyes out sometimes, for jeal- 


54 


TWO WAYS. 


ousy of each other’s dress, and dancing-partners; 
and there’s such a turning up of noses at this one 
and that one; and oh! the fibbing they do! I get a 
great deal of attention all round, on Jack’s account, 
but I wish you could see him when he’s obliged to 
go out with me, or stay in when I have a few girls. 
He won’t say a word to anybody, he won’t dance, 
and hides himself in corners, glowering at every- 
thing. I went to a German at Madge Ward’s last 
night, and Bessie Shaw — she looked so pretty — 
bounced out of a crowd of girls, and offered him a 
‘favor,’ and what do you think he did?” 

“ I’m sure I can’t imagine,” said Hester, laughing. 

“He dropped it like hot shot, his face got in a 
flame, and he rushed off home, leaving word with 
Cousin Egbert to fetch me when it was over. I de- 
clare I was so ashamed of him I could have cried.” 

“Do you dance the German, my child?” asked 
Sister Perpetua. 

“I have once or twice, but I’ve ‘sworn off,’ as 
Rip Van Winkle says. I don’t like it, somehow.” 

“I’m very glad to hear that you have,” answered 
Sister Perpetua, approvingly. “In my young. days 
in the world, waltzing was not one of the dances of 
the best society, — it was not considered modest; 
and from all that I can learn about them, these 
new-fangled round dances that are in such vogue 
now, are even worse. It is strange to me how Cath- 
olic girls can countenance and dance them too, 
knowing that the Church does not approve, and its 
pastors forbid them.” 

“ How Jack would dote on you, Sister Perpetua! 
You should hear him launch out about round 


A SURPRISE. 


55 


dances, and Germans in particular. Indeed I don't 
think it quite honorable the way he and Guy Carl- 
ton go on about the girls who dance them; because 
Guy is to lead all the Germans through the holi- 
days, and pretends to admire the very ones he makes 
remarks about." 

“ That's one of the ways of the world, my child. 
‘ There's nothing true but heaven,' sings the poet, 
and ‘ All is vanity,' saith wisdom," remarked Sister 
Perpetua. 

“ But it's a very pleasant place to live in, after 
all," laughed Annie Shirley, lifting her bright, 
dimpled face to the friendly, gentle face of the 
nun, who thought indulgently of the natural illu- 
sions of youth, and only smiled back to her, know- 
ing that a time would come, in the order of human 
life, which would dispel them. 

“I must go now. When shall I send the car- 
nage, Hester, — I mean at what hour to-morrow?" 

“ About twelve o'clock, if perfectly convenient." 

“ Any hour that will suit you, for we're to have a 
grand sleighing frolic to-morrow, and — oh, about 
the foot-warmer; you'll see a little stopper on top 
which comes off, and the hot water’s to be poured 
through the tube under it; then you must screw it 
on very tightly again. Mamma charged me not to 
forget this, and I came very near it, didn't I? 
Good-by, Sister! I'll be out to see you next week, 
Hester, and bring Jack along." 

“ Do," said Hester, laughing; “but be sure you 
let him know beforehand that I shall not wish him 
to dance, with me. I've heard something of your 
brother's college life, though." 


56 


TWO WAYS. 


“Ah, there lie’s all right, none better; and he 
stands so well, too, in his classes,” said Annie, look- 
ing well pleased. “ Do you know that he saved 
two fellows from drowning in September, and came 
near being drowned himself in doing it? He’s an 
odd fish, but I love him dearly,” exclaimed the 
bright, kind-hearted girl. Then she went away, 
leaving pleasant thoughts behind her. 

Oh, what a day that was for Nora Kinsella! First 
of all, Mass and her Christmas Communion in the 
chapel, then breakfast in the refectory at Sister 
Agnese’s table, with Hester Milburn beside her, then 
the pleasant excitement of getting ready to start, 
and last of all, bowling along over the smoothly- 
beaten snow, in that crimson-lined, soft, spring- 
seated carriage, drawn along by a pair of strong, 
glossy, clean-limbed black horses, the reins held by 
an imposing looking personage in livery! She was 
so comfortable, too, with that nice, warm, China 
bag under her feet. She did not attempt to talk, 
she was too happy; but leaned back against the soft 
cushions with a look of intense delight on her 
countenance. Hester noticed this, but let her 
enjoy her novel situation without interruption, 
knowing that, when she was ready, she’d speak out 
her thoughts. By and by, about four miles out, 
the road ascended, running parallel with the rail- 
road which had been graded to a level some fifteen 
feet below it, by cutting through the hill. A train 
of freight-cars was going slowly by, and Nora won- 
dered if they had come past her “granny’s” cot- 
tage, and if Teddy had seen them! A little further 
on, the road curved slightly, and Nora, who was 


A SURPRISE. 


57 


gazing out through the glass window, all at once 
sprang up and gave a cry of joy, clapping her hands 
and exclaiming, “There it is. Miss! Oh, there it 
is, and there's Teddy at the door, on his crutch!” 

Hester pulled the check-string, and looking be- 
yond the railroad to the opposite side, she saw a 
low pitched cottage, that was brown with age, 
standing on the hill-side, with large hickory and 
walnut trees about it, a stretch of orchard, and 
field, and garden, at the sides and rear, all running 
up hill, making a pretty background in summer for 
the quaint old house. A bright fire shone through 
the window, and there, on the ioor, stood Teddy, 
gazing up at the fine carriage and horses, wondering 
why they stopped. Hester had seen the place 
hundreds of times, but could not imagine how 
Teddy got there, and how Nora should know it. 

“Why, Nora! that is ‘Hill-side* Cottage, audit 
belongs to my father. It is near our house!” said 
Hester, quite puzzled. 

“Oh, Miss, but my granny lives there. I’ve been 
there often! Do please let me get out and just run 
across to see them all!” cried Nora, half wild with 
excitement. 

“ My dear little girl, it is impossible. There is 
no way of getting down this steep place. Sit back, 
though, while I open the window and ask Teddy 
how everybody is, and tell him you are here with 
me.” 

“Let me, Miss! he don’t know you, and he’ll 
just run in, he’s so shy,” she pleaded. 

“ Very well, you may, just for a minute, it is so 
cold.” 


58 


TWO WAYS. 


44 Teddy! Teddy! ” slie shouted, waving her hand- 
kerchief, “it’s me! Don’t you see it’s me?” 

Teddy recognized her and disappeared; but the 
next minute his mother, with a shawl over her head, 
appeared, hurrying down towards the railroad; then 
they lost sight of her, and while they were wonder- 
ing what had become of her, there she was, panting 
and tired, at the carriage window, with Nora’s face 
between her hands, kissing her. 

“She has been sick, Mrs. Kinsella, and the 
doctor thought it would do her good to come home 
with me. I am Hester Milburn, and my father 
lives back here at 4 Oak Grove.’ ” 

44 Indeed are you, Miss? I’m a thousand times 
obliged to you, surely, for your goodness to my little 
girl. She don’t look so rosy as she did, but these 
young things like her do always show the least bit 
of sickness, and I know the Sisters, God bless ’em, 
took the best care of you, my darling!” 

44 Indeed they did, mammy! Oh, mammy! my 
dear mammy!” said Nora, hugging her mother’s face 
up close to hers; 44 but she’s been the goodest of all,” 
she added, pointing to Hester. 

44 Mrs. Kinsella, I’m almost afraid Nora will take 
cold; and if you won’t think it unkind — but why 
need you be separated so soon? Get into the car- 
riage, won’t you, and come home with us; it is not 
far, and I’ll ask the driver to bring you back when 
it returns presently,” said Hester. 

44 Teddy! Teddy!” shouted Mrs. Kinsella, 44 I’m 
going to 4 Oak Grove, ’ tell granny it’s Nora, and 
I’ll be back in a half hour.” Then she got into the 
carriage, the window was drawn up, the door shut, 


A SUIl PRISE. 


59 


and the horses started off at a brisk trot, which soon 
brought them to the gate of the Milburn homestead; 
while Teddy and his granny, who had been out 
looking after the turkeys, sat by the firu, puzzling 
their brains to know what it could all mean. “I 
hope,” said granny, with a grim smile, “that it 
ain't a coach that the 4 Good People '* have been 
makin’ out of a pumpkin; it would be a great let- 
down this cowld day!” 

“ I’m so glad that it turns out that Nora is your 
little girl, for it will make her very happy to be 
here, where she can see you and the rest of them at 
*' Hill-side’ every day,” said Mrs. Milburn, after the 
first welcomes were over, and Hester had gone 
upstairs with Nora, to take off her things and show 
her where to put them. 

“Thank you, ma'am, I'm glad myself. It's been 
a sore trial to me, partin' with Nora, but I wouldn't 
be so selfish as to stand between her and her best 
interests, when the Sisters offered to eddicate her, 
so I let her go.” 

“ You did very right, Mrs. Kinsella, but you 
must not ask her any questions about her sickness; 
my daughter will tell you all about it before you go. 
She got a scare, somehow, in the night, and Dr. 
Halford says it is best to try and make her forget it.” 

“ It is a strange thing, ma'am, to hear about 
Nora's gettin’ arfright,” said Mrs. Kinsella, while a 
look of care overspread her countenance, “ but I’ll 
do as you say. If you believe me, ma’am, she used 
to go about in the dark when she could just walk 


* Fairies. 


60 


TWO WA YS. 


alone, and I’ve often felt afeared she’d lose her life 
some day, she was so fond of runnin’ her head into 
danger. Was it a ghost she saw?” 

“ Be sure it was no ghost, Mrs. Kinsella; but 
here she comes; let her see you looking cheerful,” 
said Mrs. Milburn. The next moment Nora was in 
her mother’s arms, asking questions without end 
about Teddy, and how she herself was getting on; 
how granny was of her pains; and about her old 
friends of the feathered tribe; then the pigs, the 
cow, and Dobbin, the horse; in such a gale of happy 
talk, that she forgot all about her sickness, and 
what had brought it on her. 

“ Nora, will you spare your mother to me just 
ten minutes? I have a message for her from the 
Sisters,” said Hester, coming to the door. She had 
left them together, thinking that the happiness of 
their unexpected meeting would be more unre- 
strained if without witnesses. 

“Surely, Miss! Go, mammy; I’ll wait here and 
play with the kittens,” she said, blithely, as she 
went towards the warm rug, where two soft, snow- 
white kittens lay curled up before the fire sound 
asleep. 

“Ah, she’s happy now!” said her mother, with 
a fond look towards her as she lingered a moment at 
the door, before going upstairs with Hester, who 
conducted her to her own room, where, having 
closed the door, she sat down beside her, and told 
her, as far as she or the Sisters knew, all that had 
happened; and that it was their opinion, as well as 
her own, that some thoughtless girl belonging to 
the south dormitory had, without meaning harm, 


A SURPRISE. 


61 


played a trick on Nora, thinking to have some fun, 
and little expecting such serious consequences as 
followed. The girls sometimes amused themselves 
making sorties into each other’s alcoves, contrary to 
the rules, to hold snuff under the nostrils of some 
unconscious sleeper, whose vociferous sneezing more 
than rewarded their temerity by the fun it gave 
them; flirting a handful of water into a placid 
slumberer’s face, or sticking patches of court-plas- 
ter, cut into absurd shapes, upon another uncon- 
scious countenance, which, in the hurry of dressing, 
were innocently worn down to chapel, producing 
suppressed giggling in all who observed the oddly 
decorated face; tossing pillows over the curtains, 
which fell with a thud upon the object of their fun, 
who, often at first frightened, returned it with in- 
terest, when a regular pillow-fight would set in, ex- 
tending some distance along the line of alcoves with 
scarcely a sound, until sheer exhaustion from 
laughter brought it to a close. These were some of 
the nonsensical tricks played upon each other by 
the girls, whose spirit of mischief bubbled ove.r, 
despite their good resolutions, but never had any- 
thing half so serious as this occurred. Hester then 
told Mrs. Kinsella how tenderly Nora had been 
nursed, and how kind Dr. Halford, the Sisters, and 
the young ladies had been to her, and how sorry 
every one felt for her; never once, however, speak- 
ing of herself, or how she had befriended her from 
first to last. 

“ Sister Agnes would have sent for you, Mrs. 
Kinsella, had Nora got worse; then after she began 
to mend, she said it would be a pity to add to your 


62 


TWO WAYS. 


cares by writing to you about the affair, as probably 
you might not be able to come, and it would only 
make you miserable thinking of it, when all danger 
was. really over.” 

“The Sister was in the right, Miss, but ach! that 
was a cruel joke on a "bit of a child! But Fm very 
thankful to the Sisters and all, for their goodness to 
her. God reward ’em, and do the like for ’em when 
theirhourcomes!” said Mrs. Kinsella, wiping her eyes. 

“As I wasn’t coming home right away after 
Christmas, the doctor thought a little change would 
do Nora good. I had written to mother, but didn’t 
mention Nora’s last name, so she had no more idea 
than I had, when she told me to ‘ bring the little 
girl home ’ with me, that we had you all for such 
near neighbors, and that she would have a double 
happiness after all her troubles, poor little woman! 
She got very fond of me when she first came to 
school, you know, and you ought to have seen how 
happy she was when she heard that she was coming 
home with me; she said it was the next best thing 
to going to her own mammy and Teddy, little ex- 
pecting that they’d be the first she’d see on her way 
here. Mother thought I’d best tell you everything, 
so that when Nora comes to see you she may not be 
set talking about her sickness, and the scare. The 
doctor says it would be very bad for her to do so, 
and might bring on a relapse.” 

“Thank you, Miss, you’re very considerate!” 
said Mrs. Kinsella, rising. “I think I’d better go 
now, they’ll be uneasy over yonder, not being used 
to see one of us lifted off in a grand coach, and car- 
ried away so suddint.” 


A SURPRISE. 


63 


“ The carriage will take you back, Mrs. Kinsella, 
and if to-morrow’s a fine day, I’ll fetch Nora to 
spend it with you,” said Hester, as they were going 
down-stairs. 

“ There’s one thing, Miss, I forgot to ask, my 
breath’s been so taken away by what I’ve heard,” 
whispered Mrs. Kinsella, stopping in the hall. 
“ Who gave Nora the warm pretty clothes she’s 
wearin’, and the nice boots? It made my heart 
ache, to be sure, to send her to the convent in the 
trim she was; I was af eared she’d be huffed, and 
get her feelins hurted, but you know. Miss, I was so 
poor! I was almost beggared, and I had to swallow 
my pride and let her go as she was. I know how 
school-girls mostly be about dress, for I sewed a 
great many years at the Georges Street Convent, 
and some of ’em is that prideful that they think no 
more of a poorly-dressed person than they do of the 
dirt under their feet. Who is it that’s been so good 
to her?” 

“One of the first class-girls, Mrs. Kinsella, who 
took a great interest in Nora, but she does not wish 
herself known,” replied Hester, her face crimson to 
the roots of her hair. 

“And I pray that the sweet Mother of Jesus may 
never lose sight of her, livin’ or dyin’, whoever she 
be,” said Mrs. Kinsella, fervently. * 

In Hester Milburn’s manner towards her plain 
and less fortunate visitor, there was not the slight- 
est flavor of patro7iizing her, or the least shadow of 
condescension; her politeness being inbred, as well 
as founded on Christian principles, was too genuine 
to be put off and on at pleasure, and nothing would 


04 


Tiro WAYS. 


have surprised her more than had she been asked: 
“How she could be so polite to that sort of peo- 
ple?” meaning the poor, the servants, and the des- 
titute. 

When Hester and Mrs. Kinsella opened the 'din- 
ing-room door, Nora slipped the kittens out of her 
lap, on the rug, and running to her mother clasped 
her hand in both her own, and sat close by her at 
the table, where Mrs. Milburn had placed some cake 
and currant wine, which she insisted on Mrs. Kin- 
sella’s partaking of before she went. 

“ And how does Teddy like being in the country, 
Mrs. Kinsella? You see I know all your family,” 
remarked Mrs. Milburn. 

“He’s just that content, ma’am, that he says 
nothin 9 . He takes great interest in watchin’ the 
cars go by, ’specially after dark, when the red and 
blue lights is burnin’, and the sparks is flyiiT out of 
the steam-engine. Then between whiles, ma’am, 
he cuts the beautifullest things out of cigar boxes 
that granny fetches him from town, and, ma’am, it 
would do your heart good to see what friends she 
and Teddy is; he keeps her accounts for her, and 
saves her many a dollar, she says herself. I never 
saw the child so happy! I s’pose the quite * of the 
country helps. He’s mighty old-fashioned, is 
Teddy!” 

“It is half the battle, for one afflicted as he is, to 
be contented, and have some occupation,” said Mrs. 
Milburn; “it was a happy thought to bring him to 
live in the country.” 


* Quiet. 


A SURPRISE. 


65 


“ Does granny get the rheumatiz now, mammy?” 
inquired Nora, with a secret dread which her mother 
easily penetrated. 

“ Just the same, darlin’, but Teddy’d never know 
it, not he, bless you, granny’s that tender and 
watchful over him.” 

Nora's face flushed, and she cast a quick glance 
towards Hester, who understood but would not 
appear to notice it; but when her mother was ready 
to go, and had kissed her “good-by,” she whispered: 
“Give my love to Teddy, and to granny too, and 
tell her I’ve got something beautiful to bring her 
when I come.” 

“ Which will be to-morrow, Miss Hester says! ” 

Here was new happiness, which entirely put to 
rout the pain of parting, and the impulsive child 
jumped and clapped her hands with delight, she was 
so overjoyed. The coachman, who had, by Mrs. 
Milburn’s invitation, been regaling himself in the 
warm kitchen, while one of her men held the horses 
now came out; and mounting the box, gathered 
up the reins ready to start. 

“You mustn’t come out, Nora, it is too cold,” 
said Hester; “ you must be content with taking a 
last look through the window. Run in, and shut 
the door.” 

The carriage drove off, and Hester came in, rub- 
bing her hands together to warm them before she 
came near the fire; then she danced round the room 
rolling one of the fat, lazy kittens one way, and one 
another, to Nora’s great amusement, who had 
never seen “Miss Hester funny before,” as she 
expressed it; not knowing that it was a little ruse 


66 


TWO WAYS. 


to divert her from being sorry at parting with her 
mother. 

“ Now, Nora,” she said, after swinging her around 
in an impromptu dance two or three times, “you've 
seen your good mammy, and I must go and have a 
chat with mine. There are the kittens; I want you 
to find a name for them, and teach them some 
tricks. Poor little things! their education has 
been entirely neglected, mother says. If you get 
tired before I come back, go over there in the draw- 
ing-room, and look at the pictures and pretty 
things! ” 

“ Miss Hester/' she said in a low voice, “ I'm so 
happy that I should like to sit down and think, if 
you please.” 

“Of course, sit down and think, Nora,” said 
Hester laughing, “ and do like the kittens, if you 
can, by curling yourself up on the sofa and going to 
sleep.” 

When she came back, Nora was sound asleep on 
the sofa, with the kittens purring softly in her arms 
their pink noses close together against her cheek. 


CHAPTER Y. 

GRANKY’s HOUSE AT “ HILL-SIDE. ” 

The interior of “ Hill-side ” cottage, where 
Granny Kinsella lived, was both roomy and com- 
fortable. One apartment and a small kitchen occu- 
pied. the first floor; the latter, however, was used in 
winter as a store-room; at one end there was a wide 
old-fashioned fireplace, above which the chimney, 
built inside of the house, rose up pyramidal fashion, 
in steps to the ceiling; said steps being whitewashed 
and serving as receptacles for cracked china, tin- 
ware, plaster, poll parrots, candlesticks, lamps, and 
odds and ends of various things, which, as they 
were all kept clean and bright, made quite a gay 
appearance. The crowning glory, however, was 
two large bunches of peacock feathers, gorgeous in 
blue, green, and gold, that spread out their splen- 
dors from two cracked tea-pots at either end of the 
first tier, which formed a quaint sort of mantel over 
the fireplace, and met above the bright-faced Yan- 
kee clock, that stood in the centre, which ticked 
loudly and jovially, as if in conscious pride. 

In one corner of the room stood the biscuit-block; 
but perhaps you so far North don’t know what a 
Southern biscuit-block is. Neither did Mother 
Kinsella, when she first came to Maryland fifty 
years ago; but the longer she staid the better she 
got used to the ways oi the country, without ever 


68 


TWO WAYS. 


forgetting her own native land, its language, its 
faith, its legends of saints, Druids, fairies, Danes, 
and the murderin' Sassanach. A biscuit-block, 
then, is the section of a tree trunk about four feet 
high and six or seven in circumference, from which 
the bark is stripped, after which it is set on end, the 
upper end being smoothed off perfectly level. When 
the dough is mixed it is placed upon the biscuit-block 
and beaten with a heavy pestle for at least an hour; 
then it is shaped into biscuits with the hand; 
pricked lightly with a fork, and baked in a quick 
oven; and when they are taken out, if there is any- 
thing more delicious in the shape of bread either to 
look at or eat I have yet to see it. 

Granny Kinsella went into service as soon as she 
landed in America; and after making blunders 
enough to have disheartened one less brave than 
herself, she learnt a great many comfortable ways 
which she had no chance of doing where she came 
from, by reason of the black, bitter poverty that the 
middlemen, bad 'cess to 'em, put upon the peo- 
ple. 

In another corner, between the window and the 
fireplace, stood her “ flax-wheel," that no money 
could have bought from her, for it was the very 
wheel she had learnt how to spin flax on when she 
was “a bit of a girl, settin' at her mother's door, 
with the shadow of the ould abbey, that had the 
beautifullest ivy clammerin* all over its ruined 
walls, shelterin' her from the noon-day sun, an' 
lettin' the moon through the tall windys at night, 
whin nothin' was to be heard but the tinkle of the 
reek, tricklin' down the rocks foreninst it; an' sure 


GRANNY’S HOUSE AT “HILL-SIDE . 9 


69 


there’s no land on God’s earth so beautiful,” she 
used to say. So there the old flax-wheel stood, a 
bit of her home across the seas; and when the east- 
wind didn’t blow, setting her old bones to aching, 
she would often look at it with a tear in her eye, 
and dream her young days over again to whoever 
would care to listen. There was also a “ cotton- 
spinner ” in another nook, — a large spinning-wheel 
on which she used to spin the finest, evenest threads 
ever spun by finger-work, out of which she knit 
gentlemen’s socks, which obtained great repute in 
market, and were always eagerly bought up. The 
bright rag-carpet that covered the floor was pieced 
and woven by her busy hands into patterns of red, 
yellow and black. Country- made rush -bottomed 
chairs, and two pine tables, kept as white as curd by 
frequent scrubbing, set here and there against the 
walls between the four windows, over which hung 
curtains of blue and white striped linen, all that 
was left of some precious bed-spreads she had 
brought from the “ould country” with her. Right 
opposite the fireplace, at the lower end of the room 
stood a squat-looking, funny chest of drawers, that 
she bought one day at a market auction of old furni- 
ture, because it was the “model of one that her own 
mother’s sister in Ireland owned,” and she could 
never divest herself of the idea but that it was the 
identical one, “ brought to Ameriky ” by some 
chance; and it did her as much good, all the same 
to think so, and she kept the black wood of it, and 
its brass mountings, and quaint square handles, so 
polished up, that it was quite resplendent. In its 
three drawers were preserved her most precious pos- 


70 


TWO WAYS. 


sessions, — her grave clothes,* all to themselves, in 
one; relics of her husband and her children, all dead, 
were in another; and in the last a scarlet cloth 
cloak that had been her mother's, then hers — a gen- 
uine heir-loom, which was the pride of her life, and 
as zealously aired and taken care of, to keep out 
moths and dust, as if it had been a royal mantle. 
On top of the bureau was a swinging-glass, and 
upon a small round table, which stood quite back 
in the angle of the wall, there was a plaster image 
of the Blessed Virgin, and a crucifix; and on each 
side, facing each other, hung a gayly-colored print, 
of St. Joseph and St. Patrick, all decorated with 
artificial sprigs of shamrock which she had got 
made to order, not begrudging a cent of the gold 
dollars she paid for them. Upon shelves put up as 
they were needed, irrespective of symmetry, stood 
her crockery and glass-ware, while overhead, in 
tissue paper-bags, were sweet smelling and aromatic 
herbs of every sort and description — kitchen, medic- 
inal and balsamic — suspended from the transverse 
wooden beams of the ceiling. These were for 
market, and it was her boast that she never brought 
back a sprig that she carried there, they were so 
much finer than any to be found on the other stalls. 
She took great pride in her honest calling, did 
Mother Kinsella, and it did her old heart good to 
brag a little over her successes. 

There's a bright fire blazing and crackling on the 
hearth, wood being cheap and plenty hereabouts; 
the sunshine lies in broad dazzling stripes upon the 


* An old-fashioned custom, not yet entirely given up. 


GRANNY'S HOUSE AT “IIILL-SIDE ” 


71 


carpet, the big yellow cat basking and dozing in it. 
Teddy is sitting in bis low-padded chair by a chest 
where granny keeps her flour, tea, coflee and sugar, 
under lock and key, as she does most of her movable 
properties, on account of being obliged to be so 
often absent at the city markets; and he is chip- 
ping away busily with his pen-knife a piece of soft 
wood, which he seems to be shaping into a design 
of some sort. His mother is in her chair near the 
fire, sewing busily, and nothing is heard except the 
hum and crackle of the fire, and the pert ticking of 
the Yankee clock on the chimney; when all at once 
Granny Kinsella bursts into the room through the 
outer door with an old basket in her hand, from 
which arose a “peeping” and “cheeping” not to 
be described. 

“ Here they be!” she exclaimed in high indigna- 
tion; “that scaramouch of a Cochin went aid 
hatched 'em under the house in spite of me, ex- 
pectin' me to nuss 'em afterwards. It's as bad as 
murder to be liatchin' chickens here at Christ- 
mas!” 

The old woman was a picture to be seen, covered 
with dust and cobwebs; the crown of her white cap 
mashed into a cocked hat, while the wide-pleated 
ruffle stuck out “looking seven ways for Sunday” 
around her healthy, rosy old face; all the result of 
having squeezed herself under the house to get at 
those chickens to save their lives. “Not,” she 
says, “that they'll be any profit to me, for a 
chicken raised by hand gets to feel like your own 
child sure! ” 

“Oh, granny!” said Teddy, his head over the 


72 


TWO WAYS. 


basket, while he handles the soft, yellow, bright- 
eyed chicks, “ ril tend ’em, if you’ll only let me!” 

“An' welcome,” says granny, “only don’t bother 
me wi’ ’em. Now clear oif the litter from a-top the 
cliist, an’ git out some male an’ put a sup of water 
into it, an’ feed ’em, for I can’t stall’ their squak- 
ing; it gives me. screws in my ears. An’ here’s 
some cotton-battin’ to keep ’em warm. The Lord 
be good to us, some stray or another’s al’ays cornin’ 
to my door! Last winter it was two young pigs, 
that anybody would ha’ thought dropped out o’ the 
clouds, for I couldn’t find a owner for ’em far or 
near; an’ sich a time as they giv’ me trottin’ about 
after me, squealing an’ scramblin’, an’ runnin’ be- 
tween my two feet, so that many a time they come 
nigh sendin’ me head-foremost into the fire, or out 
of the door.” 

“What became of ’em, mother?” asked Mrs. 
Kinsella, who had been having a quiet laugh to her- 
self all the time. 

“Become! I raised ’em, an’ they’ll live ’till they 
die, for I couldn’t any more put a knife into their 
throats than I could into Teddy’s,” she answered. 

“There’s the sleigh! I hear the bells! Oh, 
mammy! Nora’s come!” shouted Teddy, leaving 
the chicks to look out of the window. Granny saw 
its approach, and noticing that a young lady was 
with Nora, she hurried upstairs to “red herseT” 
up, not wishing Miss Milburn, who was “born gen- 
tle folk,” to see her in the plight she was; utter- 
ing, as she went, some rough Celtic gutturals at the 
Cochin China hen, no ddubt, but which no one ex- 
cept herself understood a word of. 


GRANNY’S HOUSE AT “ HILLSIDE . ” 


73 


“You’re very welcome. Miss! Come in, you and 
Nora, and sit here by the fire,” said Mrs. Kinsella, 
who opened the door as the sleigh stopped. She 
had Nora in her arms clasped close to her breast, a 
heavy weight, which the gladness of her maternal 
heart made light. 

Hester Milburn accepted the good woman’s hospi- 
talities with genial thankfulness, and thought she 
had never seen so quaint and cosy a place in all her 
life as the pleasant room 1 have described to you. 

“Here, Teddy darlin’,” cried Nora, quite wild 
with delight, “ here she is — Miss Hester, I mean — 
who’s been so good to me. Look at my pretty 
dress; my new shoes, my blue ribbon, and even my 
nice warm flannel petticoat! She gave them to me, 
and — oh I’m so happy, mammy, you don’t know!” 

“Why, Nora, have you forgotten Teddy’s Christ- 
mas gift?” said Hester, laughing, while a blush 
stole over her usually colorless cheeks, — colorless 
but of that rich fairness only seen in the South- 
land. “ Here’s your basket! ” 

“I didn’t mean to, Miss, but I couldn’t help it; 
I hope you ain’t angry with me for breaking my 
promise,” said Nora, creeping round to Hester’s 
side, and speaking very low. 

“No, indeed; but let me untie your hood, that 
your mother may see how well you are looking 
to-day. The ride hasn’t hurt her a bit, Mrs. Kin- 
sella; just see how rosy she is! Go now, and show 
Teddy what you have brought him.” 

“She does indeed look first rate, Miss, and 
dressed so nice and comfortable, like a lady’s child; 
and for yon to go to so much trouble for her is more 


74 


TWO WAYS . 


than I can ever thank you enough for/’ said Mrs. 
Kinsella, with tears in her eyes; “havin' good 
clothes '11 save her .many a hurt amongst them 
proud young things at the Convent; the Sisters, 

• God bless 'em, can't help it, seeing it's bred in the 
bones of some of 'em to be scornful to them that's 
worse off than theirselves." 

“Nora has many friends at the Convent who 
were so very kind to her when she was ill, she's 
such a good-natured, atfectionate little thing," re- 
plied Hester, passing over her own kindness, wish- 
ing to keep it out of sight. “ Tell me, now, how 
Teddy likes the country?" 

“Him!" answered Mrs. Kinsella, with a cheerful 
smile, “he's as chirpy as a cricket; you never saw 
the like of it! I'm going to show you somethin', 
Miss, that he's made out of his own head, with 
nothin' but his knife and a cigar-box." 

A band-box is pulled from under a table, and a 
pretty bracket carved with leaves and flowers is 
taken therefrom, and placed by the proud mother 
in Hester's hands. It was really admirably exe- 
cuted, and was joined together by what looked like 
tiny silver-headed tacks, but which proved to be 
the heads of pins, he having clipped the pins in 
half, and sharpened the ends of them for this pur- 
pose. “He cut it every bit with his pen-knife. 
Miss!" said his mother. 

“It is beautiful! Why, Teddy, you're an artist; 
did you know?" said Hester. 

“No, ma'am. I like to do it, though, and the 
wood's easy to cut. I sort o' can't help it, for what- 
ever it is in me, it keeps goin’ round and round 


GRANNY'S HOUSE AT “HILL-SIDE.” 


75 


inside o’ my head till it gets out in shapes like 
that,” said the boy, in a quaint, grave manner, eye- 
ing all the time the Christmas bonbon, with its 
blushing rose and velvet-winged butterfly, that 
Nora had brought, with a pleased wonder in his 
eyes at the sight and possession of so beautiful a 
thing. 

“It will go on keeping you busy, I suspect, 
Teddy. And let me tell you something,” said Hes- 
ter, sitting down on the floor by his low chair, and 
speaking in gentle tones, so that he only heard her; 
“people who have plenty of money to spend are 
very fond of buying things like that pretty bracket 
to ornament their houses with, and I think if you’ll 
send some of them to town by your granny, you’ll 
get a good price for them.” 

“ I never thought of that. Oh, ma’am, if I could 
earn some money it would make me so happy! You 
see how it is with me; all the rest work,” said 
Teddy, with a new light brightening his intelligent 
gray eyes. “But do you think I can?” 

“I know it,” replied Hester. “Make another 
one like this, and send them both to me before the 
holidays are over, and I’ll see what I can do for 
you.” 

Here a cry of delight from Nora interrupted the 
conversation; she had just found the chickens, and 
was on her knees over the basket, touching them 
first with her fingers, then lifting them up one by 
one to be kissed, thinking that each was more 
lovely than the last. About this time granny came 
down-stairs, in all the glory of a lace frilled cap, a 
green merino dress, an old-fashioned collar of Irish 


76 


TWO WAYS. 


needlework, and a black silk apron, and made her 
courtesy in state to Miss Milburn, giving her wel- 
come, and many thanks for her goodness to Nora, 
all in a heap of gushing warm-heartedness, who, 
she said, “was that changed for the better she 
would hardly know her for the same child. I s*pose 
it’s eddication as did it. You*ll forget how to climb 
trees an* race the pigs afore summer comes, honey,” 
she added, kissing her grandchild. 

“1*11 be just the same, granny, and ready to ride 
the colt, climb trees, and race about in the woods 
between whiles,** said Nora, her eyes sparkling. 

“Between whiles, — what?** inquired granny. 

“ I’m going to help round first, you know, — help 
you and mammy; then between whiles 1*11 play 
lots,** said Nora, looking half ashamed, as if she 
thought maybe she had said too much. 

“Faith an* that*s good news! D*ye know, Miss, 
that she*s thought all along that the world was 
made for nothin’ but to play in; an* play she did, 
mornin, noon and night, till she*d nat*rally tumble 
over with sleep, she’d be so mortial tired. Blessin* 
on them that incensed* ye, Nora asthore!** 

Then they all fell to talking cheerfully of this 
thing and that, being full of Christmas and hap- 
piness and thankfulness for blessings received. 
Granny was highly pleased with her shamrock bon- 
bon; and after pressing it for an instant to her 
withered lips for the sake of “ ould Ireland,** when 
she thought nobody saw her, she laid it upon the 
little table in the far corner, right at the foot of the 


Made you sensible. 


GEAtfNY’JS HOUSE AT “ HILL-SIDE. »> 77 

coarse plaster pedestal, on which stood the image 
of the Virgin Mother and her Babe. Then, her old 
heart softened by the twofold thought of heaven 
and home, and more touched than she was conscious 
of by Nora’s loving remembrance of her, she bustled 
out, and brought in a cold roast turkey, a print of 
rich yellow butter of her own churning, a loaf of 
white bread, a pickled mango, and a lemon pie, 
which having arranged upon a snow-white cloth, 
she invited her guest and family to draw up around 
the table and help themselves. She was a proud, 
happy woman that day; not the lonely, forlorn old 
creature that she was before she opened her heart, 
and took into her home the widow and children of 
her dead son; there they were, gathered around her 
board, her own flesh and blood, with a “rale lady ” 
to the fore. The blessed sun was shining his bright- 
est, and there was no ache in her bones to set her 
half wild; and then the thought that Nora’s mother 
hadn’t turned upon her as she might — for granny 
had taken a long time to make up her mind to do 
the right thing towards them — but had swallowed 
her pride, and come to live under her roof to take 
the place of him that was gone, made her feel so 
thankful, that, bless you! she wouldn’t have 
changed places with the queen, if she could. 

Hester Milburn enjoyed her visit highly; her 
drive through the cold had made her very hungry, 
and she did ample justice to granny’s hospitality, 
and delighted her old heart not only by praising and 
eating heartily of the nice things before her, but, 
amused at her oddities, she fell into her humor in a 
way that perfectly enchanted her. They were a 


78 


TWO WAYS. 


merry party, — but the clock over the fireplace 
struck three; at half-past, Hester was to be at the 
station to meet her father, so she hurried on her 
wraps, told Nora she was to stay all night with her 
mother, and that she would come for her next day; 
shook hands all round with a hearty “good-by,” 
and went away with a heart brightened and glad- 
dened by her unselfish effort to make others happy. 

That night the Afghan having received its last 
tassel, was presented in due form to Mr. Milburn, 
whose surprise and pleasure at the unexpected 
present made him forget his gravity, and behave 
like a school-boy, to Hester’s great delight. He 
spread it out upon the floor, that he might take in 
all of its gorgeousness of pattern, design, and colors 
at a glance; he pranced around it, candle in hand, 
kneeling here and there to get a closer look at the 
head of a rabbit peeping out through a garland of 
holly, or the honest face of a mastiff ready to bark 
through a cluster of roses. Then he wrapped it 
around himself, and walked up and down, declaring 
that he didn’t know whether he was a Roman Sena- 
tor or an Indian Sachem, while it trailed upon the 
floor behind him. This nonsense was very enjoya- 
ble to Mrs. Milburn and Hester, for it was but 
rarely they saw him in such a gay mood; but there’s 
an electrical happiness in Christmas — a something in 
the air — that infects the heaviest hearts with a 
momentary lightness, and makes them rejoice in 
the passing hosannas that brighten and sweeten 
this earthly atmosphere, as they did on that far-off 
night when the shepherds not only heard, but beheld 
the angels who sang them. 


GRANNY’ S HO USE AT 11 HILL-SIBE. ” 79 

Mr. Milburn finally, with the Afghan still around 
him, threw himself upon the sofa, saying that after 
all he thought perhaps he looked more like a 
Bedouin chieftain than anything else, and told 
them that as he had performed his duty, he wished 
to be talked to while he rested himself. Then 
Hester told her father about her visit to “ Hill-side,” 
describing its quaint belongings, and its inmates, 
with true humor and pathos, so that the reposing 
chieftain was highly amused and interested. She 
dwelt especially on Teddy's genius for carving, and 
showed him the bracket he had, fashioned, which 
she had brought home with her. 

“ I tell you what, Hester, this little fellow must 
not be neglected,” said Mr. Milburn, examining the 
bracket closely. “ I have a book of designs in the 
library that will be of great use to him. His talent 
must be fostered, for it is a very difficult thing for 
one afflicted as he is to find a useful occupation. 
Remind me in the morning, and I'll bring out a 
vial of copal varnish, and some linseed oil and 
umber for him; the varnish for the lighter parts, the 
other to give a dead, dark coloring to the ground- 
work; and you shall have the pleasure of giving it to 
him, daughter, and explaining how it is to be used.” 

“ Thank you very much, sir! I know how happy 
it will make him. But I want to tell you something 
that you haven't heard yet about the Afghan; you 
got of in such a gale, that I couldn't get in a word 
edgeways! ” 

“ I'm delighted to have the subject renewed, for 
I begin to feel quite oppressed by having no further 
opportunity to vent my sense of its splendors.” 


80 


TWO WAYS. 


“ Well, sir, I only want to let you know that it 
is mother’s gift as well as mine, and more so, for 
she bought the worsteds and chenille, and the gold 
thread and patterns,” replied Hester, laughing. 

Mrs. Milburn had stepped out to attend to some 
domestic affair or other, and happening to come 
back just at this moment, suddenly found herself 
enveloped in the Afghan and a pair of arms, which 
held her close for an instant; then she was waltzed 
towards her chair, and plumped down in it quite out 
of breath, while he stood before her with the air of 
an ancient cavalier, pouring out a volley of thanks 
for her Christmas gift. 

“ I declare, Ned Milburn, you are behaving just 
like a school-boy to-night; what in the world has 
got into you?” said Mrs. Milburn, with a placid 
smile. “ Anybody would suppose a fortune had 
been left you.” 

“ Something better than a fortune has been left 
me, wife, and that is a capacity for thankfulness, 
and enjoyment of God’s blessings. There have 
been times, when the wrecks of prosperity and 
better days were tumbling about my ears, that I 
was afraid it was buried under the cares, and strug- 
gles, and disappointments that followed; but when 
I remembered that you and Hester, and our old 
home were spared to me, I felt ashamed of despond- 
ency, and of brooding over losses that were ten 
thousand times of less value in the scale of happi- 
ness, and determined that not another growl should 
ever escape me.” 

“ I know it. You made a brave fight, with God’s 
help, and have won peace. It does me good to my 


GRANNY'S HOUSE AT “ HILL-SIBE ” 81 


heart's core to see you liglit-liearted; but indeed 
you took me by surprise when I came in just now, 
not expecting anything but just to sit down and 
chat with you and Hester.” 

“It was rather sudden for our Lady Placid to be 
assailed with Afghans, waltzes and speeches,” said 
Mr. Milburn, laughing; “it was taking her at a 
disadvantage altogether. Now let's talk.” 

“ Well, father, if you don't mind, do tell me how 
long Granny Kinsella has lived at Hill-side.' " 

“ These eight years or more; and she's the best 
tenant I ever had. She spares no pains with the 
land, and makes it pay her twice over for the money 
she puts in it: consequently her rent is never be- 
hindhand. I never saw such a hard-working, man- 
aging woman in my life. Talk about the Irish 
being thriftless and lazy and improvident, indeed! 
They only want a fair chance, and fair play, to get 
along better and faster than any other people who 
come to our shores. Freedom agrees with the 
Irish.” 

“I believe it does,” said Mrs. Milburn; “they 
get Americanized, anyhow 7 , sooner than the others.” 

“ And they’ll say more smart, funny things in 
ten minutes, than most people could say in a month. 
I hear Mike Callahan, the farmer at the Convent, 
talking to the Sisters sometimes about what's to be 
done at jthe farm, and he gets his own way by force 
of his wit, that makes them laugh, no matter how 
much they try not to. But I wonder,” said Hester, 
“ that I never heard that Granny Kinsella was at 
‘ Hill-side."' 

“ My dear child, what interest would you have 


82 


TWO WAYS. 


felt to know anything about it? Fm sure we were 
equally in the dark about your little protegee Nora, 
as you simply mentioned her as ‘ Nora * in your 
letters; but it was a pleasant surprise all round, and 
being possessed of a dramatic turn of mind, I have 
enjoyed it like a comedy,” said Mr. Milburn, clear- 
ing his throat. 

“ It is funny how things have come about. 
Where’s the paper, father? Shall I read it to 
you?” 

“ Here's a half-dozen,” answered Mr. Milburn, 
hauling a package from his coat pocket; “ pictor- 
ials, dailies, and our two Catholic papers, full of 
news, pictures, and intelligence foreign and domes- 
tic. Take your choice, daughter; but if you should 
happen to hear a snore while you are reading, take 
it as applause, and keep on.” 

Then Mr. Milburn stretched himself upon the 
sofa again, drawing the gorgeous Afghan over him- 
self with a look of supreme satisfaction, and Hester 
began to read aloud from one of the papers she 
selected. 


CHAPTER VI. 


OLD TIMES, AND A HAPPY HOME. 

It is an old-fashioned, substantially-built country 
house, this Milburn homestead; its exterior is dingy 
from the discoloration of Time and his mildews; in 
some places moss is actually growing in lines and 
clumps from the interstices between the bricks 
where the mortar is crumbling away; ivies stretch 
their verdant, clinging sprays in fantastic traceries 
here and there over the walls, festooning windows, 
and forming arches above the door frames; a patri- 
archal pine-tree ever whispering and moaning sad 
memories of the sea, and a great gnarled cedar, 
where a little colony of tufted cedar-birds take up 
their abode in winter when the weather gets insup- 
portably cold for them in Canada, nestle cheek by 
jowl together against the south end of the old 
house. There is no landscape gardening about the 
place; neither slopes, nor vistas, nor grouping of 
trees, except those formed by the master-hand of 
Nature, — Mr. Milburn’s means not allowing him 
the luxury, even had his tastes lain that way, of 
marring that which was already so well done. In- 
side the house everything is old fashioned; the 
once rich carpets faded, and in places threadbare, 
the mahogany furniture of the 17 th century pat- 
terns black with age; and, up to a year back, its 


84 


TWO WAYS . 


covers in such a state of fray and split, that Hester 
set her wits to work to find ways and means to pro- 
vide new ones. Shabbiness was endurable to the 
Milburn mind, but ragged finery could not be toler- 
ated. She was strong in faith as to her ability to 
embroider fresh, and even handsome covers, if the 
right sort of material could be obtained; but not 
seeing clearly how this was to be done, she held 
council with her mother as to the ways and means 
to be adopted, there being no money to spare for 
superfluities, and just enough to make both ends 
meet comfortably. I will tell you the result: Mrs. 
Milburn bethought herself of an old cedar-chest 
that had been stowed away in the garret for at least 
a century, where the cast off splendors of former 
days had been packed from time to time, as their 
owners dropped the “ pomps and vanities ” for the 
shroud and the grave; and she advised Hester to 
rummage through the stiff brocades and faded velvets, 
to see if she could not find something that would 
answer her purpose. With Maum Betsy to assist, 
the chest was hauled out from under the slope of the 
roof to the middle of the floor, and the key after re- 
peated anointings with goose-grease, and severe tug- 
ging and twisting, at last turned in the lock, and 
the treasures of bygone days lay open to Hester’s eyes. 
She unfolded, examined, and tried on the rich bro- 
cade petticoats, and trains three yards long; the far- 
dingales, the velvet ball-dresses, the spangled leno 
handkerchiefs, the pointed high-heeled satin slippers 
of different colors, worked in gold-thread and span- 
gles, the yellow lace elbow ruffles now dropping to 
pieces, the sarcenet scarfs, clocked silk stockings! 


OLD TIMES, AND A HAPPY HOME. 


85 


Never was seen sucli a medley, such heaps of disused 
finery all out of date and fashion! There was one 
funny affair amongst them which neither Hester or 
Maum Betsy could imagine the use of; it was a highly 
polished whalebone rod, gold tipped at one end, and 
at the other an ivory hand, exquisitely carved, the 
fingers bent forward, which was secured to the rod 
by a chaste gold band. It was a “ scratchback,” 
Hester learned afterwards; a little affair indispensa- 
ble to a fine lady in the good old times when they 
wore stays which brought their shoulders back, and 
kept them so erect, that when the perspiration 
trickled down their backs, producing an irritation 
that was unendurable, the pretty little instrument 
was drawn out of the pocket, and the nice little 
ivory fingers slipped down between the shoulders 
to — shall I say the word? There’s no harm in it, 
and if you have not already guessed it, I will com- 
plete the unfinished sentence — to scratch themselves 
with. The old fans of cunningly-wrought ivory, 
of silk, of feathers, and crape, in different stages of 
yellow ruin, were handled tenderly, and laid back 
in their cases. 

“ Look yere. Miss Hester, ’deed you got to make 
haste; I got to help ole Missis wi’ her.plum-puddin’ 
— is you most done? Not that I wouldn’t like to 
stay, honey, ’cause it do my heart good to see how 
gentlefolks used to dress in ole times, when niggers 
an’ po’ white folks didn’t ’tend to begin to put on 
close like their betters, ’cause they couldn’t; bein’, as 
they was, too poor to buy the like. I never see the 
likes now! Lord knows, ’cordin’ to my ’count, them 
sort dresses finer than born ladies,” said Maum Betsy. 


86 


TWO WAYS. 


“Manmy! I’m afraid your pride will give you 
more years in Purgatory than you’d like to think of. 
Go along! but indeed you’ve got to come up 
and help fold away all this finery. I wonder if 
their ghosts ever come back to see wliat’s become of 
it ?” said Hester, laughing, as she sat on the floor, 
resting herself against the great old chest. 

“ You needn’t larf about it. Miss Hester, but 
there was a ghost used to walk round; I’ve hearn her 
myself, patter, patter up an’ down, ’till I would be 
that skeert, I ’spected to see my face as white as 
yourn when I got up in the mornin’. Can’t fool 
me ’bout ghostesses!” 

“There’s mother calling you! The next time 
you hear your ghost, come and call me, and we’ll 
try and see what it looks like,” said Hester, while 
Maurn Betsy’s eyes grew rounder and rounder, with 
dread at the very thought. 

“ Honey, don’t count ’pon me for no sich foolish- 
ness. When I hears that patter, I just kivers my 
head up, an’ draws myself in a knot, ’till I goes to 
sleep agin. I’ll come back soon’s old Missis is done 
with me,” says Maum Betsy, as she hurries away as 
fast as her load of flesh will allow her to move. 

Then Hester began to rummage again, and lifted 
out some quilted silk petticoats, and several sacks 
and skirts of Marseilles, wrought in beautiful pat- 
terns; she had found nothing yet to suit her pur- 
pose, and was afraid she would have to fall back on 
calico for her covers, when all at once she spied, 
under a faded lavender sarcenet train, a large roll of 
something, she knew not what, but her curiosity was 
freshly aroused; she forgot what she was searching 


OLD TIMES, AND A HAPPY HOME. 


87 


for, so anxious was she to find out what this mummy- 
like bundle contained. She lifted it up with an 
effort, but it was so heavy that she had to tumble it 
over the side of the chest to the floor, where it 
rolled itself along a few feet, then stopped. It was 
wrapped in coarse, white Osuaburgs, sewed tightly 
together with stout twine. It had the trade-marks 
of a London firm stamped upon it, and Hester knew 
that it must have been brought across the seas long, 
long ago, for there was the date 1775. But what 
could it be? She took out her pen-knife, and cut 
through the now rotten twine, which she might 
have snapped with her fingers had she known it, 
opened the wrapping, and, Eureka! there lay a roll 
of stout red cloth! the very thing for her furniture 
covers! She rushed down with a scrap of it that 
she slashed off, to show her mother, who, in her 
placid way, was as delighted as Hester was to hear 
of this treasure-trove, and they both rejoiced. The 
cloth was found to be perfect; its wrappings had 
preserved it finely, and the smell of the cedar had 
kept out the moths! Maum Betsy and Jess, her 
grandson, brought it down to the old .drawing-room, 
and tlie work of measuring and cutting out com- 
menced forthwith. 

That night Mr. Milburn heard of the great dis- 
covery, and laughing quietly, he went into his 
library and returned with an old frayed, worm-eaten 
account-book in his hand, and began to turn over 
its pages, running his eye over the contents of each. 

“What in the world are you looking for, Ed- 
ward?” said Mrs. Milburn. “I do wish you'd leave 
business behind you when you come home!” 


88 


TWO WAYS. 


“I do,” he replied; “I leave it in custody of the 
mice and roaches, with my fervent blessing, when I 
turn the key of my office-door. Ah! here it is! 
Now, Hester, I can tell-you something about that 
red cloth you found to-day. ‘In the year 1775, 
September 2d, received from Jocksel & Jocksel, 
Strand, London, a roll of red Flemish cloth, in ex- 
change for a hogshead of prime Maryland tobacco/ 
This entry is signed * Percy Milburn.’” 

“But what on earth did they want with all that 
red cloth, father? Did gentlemen wear red cloth 
clothes in those days?” 

“Not dress clothes; but it was used for hunting- 
suits. I found out all about your red cloth before 
you were born, but I hadn’t the smallest idea that 
it was still in existence!” 

“But how? Who told you, sir?” 

“ Old family papers. I had to root them all up 
after your grandfather died, to find some deeds nec- 
essary to bring forward in a lawsuit that your 
mother’s branch of the family had brought against 
the estate — Milburn vs. Milburn.” 

“I hope you found them, sir?” 

“Yes, I found them, but there were others 
missing, by which we lost many broad acres and 
other property. I belonged to a lateral branch of 
the family, so that your. mother and I were third or 
fourth cousins. This house was the homestead, 
and here her ancestors were born, and here they had 
lived for several generations. That red cloth was 
intended for hunting-suits; but it had not been 
long received when there was a certain great tea- 
brewing in Boston harbor, about the time that the 


OLD TIMES, AND A HAPPY HOME. 


89 


Dutch party in England, by corruption, and mis- 
rule, and something worse than old King George’s 
madness, made a blessed opportunity for his colo- 
nies to slip the leash and win freedom. From that 
time forth no more red was worn here, except by 
drummer-boys — either fighting or hunting — it was a 
tabooed color, because it was the color worn by the 
British soldiers. The American patriots adopted 
blue, faced with white, for their military uniforms, 
these colors symbolizing an alliance with France, 
who bravely helped the struggling colonies through 
their tough conflict against their old oppressors. I 
suppose that roll of red cloth was pitched with fine 
scorn into the depths of the chest — where you 
found it to-day — about those critical times, and 
there all trace of it ends; for Percy Milburn was 
killed at the battle of Cowpens, and this old house 
was locked up and deserted, for some years, by his 
widow. ” 

“ I declare it is quite interesting,” remarked Mrs. 
Milburn; “I had no idea we had such a relic hid- 
den away in the old chest.” 

“It is almost as astonishing as your having found 
your husband in the cedar chest!” said Mr. Mil- 
burn, with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“A romance! a romance! Do tell about it, 
father!” exclaimed Hester, who saw a soft blush 
steal over her mother’s smooth, soft cheeks. 

“Oh, we haven’t finished the red cloth subject 
yet. What are you going to do with it, Hester? 
make a riding habit of it to hunt in?” said Mr. Mil- 
burn. 

“As if I ever hunted, father: Do tell me how 


90 


TWO WAYS. 


mother found you in the chest, and how you got 
there, and what you were doing in it. Were you all 
playing hide-and-seek, like the young bride Guin- 
evere ? ” 

“Why shouldn’t you hunt? your great-aunt Miss 
Diana Milburn, a famous beauty of those days, and 
an independent spinster living and dying, who 
resided in feudal state on her own broad acres, sur- 
rounded by two hundred slaves, kept her pack of 
hounds, and her hunters, like the other gentry, who 
were thought mean if they didn’t used to go hunt- 
ing. I’ve heard the old negroes tell how she used 
to follow the hounds with her horn at her side, 
scampering on her blooded mare, over hill and dale, 
in full chase after Reynard, taking no rest until he 
was run down, and his brush floating from her cap. 
Why can’t you do so, to keep up the dignity of the 
family? ” 

“ I wouldn’t for the world!” exclaimed Hester; 
“I should be taken for a mad woman!” 

“I am sure you would,” remarked her mother. 

“ But Hester, my child, what are you going to do 
with the red cloth; and how can you, as a native 
free-born American, make use of that British cloth 
— it came from England, if made in Flanders — that 
your ancestors were too patriotic even to look at?” 

“I’m sure it was put away for safe keeping, 
Edward, and would have been dyed, and worn too, if 
Percy Milburn had not been killed at ‘ Cowpens/ 
and it forgotten,” said practical Mrs. Milburn. 

“ Oh, thank you, mother! how sensible you 
always make things appear! Now, father, what 
have you to say? ” 


OLD TIMES, AND A HAPPY HOME. 91 

“ Nothing. I think it is very likely the cloth 
would have been put to use, blue or black, but 
never red; the question is, though, what are you 
going to do with it?” 

“ I will tell you, father, if, in turn, you'll relate 
the romance of the chest. Mayn't he, mother?'' 

“ Oh yes, if he likes to; but it's very foolish, and 
I was only sixteen.'' 

“Will you, sir?'' 

“ After you, — yes! ” 

“Well then. I'm going to make covers for all this 
old furniture out of the red cloth, and I'm going to 
embroider them every one with blue and white 
flowers; so that with the red ground we shall have 
the national colors, — red, white and blue!'' 

“What — retribution at last!'' exclaimed Mr. 
Milburn, looking dramatic; “Hester, we shall have 
ghosts sitting on our chairs and sofas of nights, if 
you do that, for yon know that before the War of 
Independence, the Milburns were fond of the royal- 
ties.'' 

“They know their mistake by this time, sir, I 
have no doubt; and if they come, they'll smile com- 
placently at the amende to liberty that I have 
made for them,” replied Hester, merrily. “ Now 
tell me how mother ever found you in that 
chest.” 

“Well, she didn't exactly find me packed away 
like an Indian Fakir in it; but she — that is our little 
romance that ended in marriage, came out of it. I 
was living in Kentucky, you must know, and one 
day I saddled my horse, and strapped on my knap- 
sack to go and seek my fortune, as well as to hunt 


92 


TWO WAYS. 


up my relatives in Maryland, for I had none out 
West, and I wanted to see how it would feel to be 
called cousin, and to say uncle and aunt to people; 
I jogged along leisurely until I got hereabouts one 
night, and having been told at the tavern that this 
was the Milburn Homestead, up I rode and knocked 
at the door. An old negro man let me in, and con- 
ducted me into this very room, where an old gentle- 
man and two or three cousins of the family were 
sitting around this very table, chatting and refresh- 
ing themselves with cake and eggnog. I felt awfully 
foolish and gawky; but the old gentleman rose up — 
like the cavalier he was- -and offering his hand, 
invited me to draw up a chair near his to the table, 
without asking me whether I was a pickpocket or a 
burglar, — a way people have of doing nowadays, 
under such circumstances, in a ‘frizen,’ polite way; 
but I couldn’t accept such hospitality without tell- 
ing him who I was, and what had brought me; and, 
bless you! he took me in his arms and hugged me 
as if I had been a long-lost son. Then he intro- 
duced me to the others, telling them I was Bathurst 
Milburn’s son, who had emigrated to Kentucky 
with Daniel Boone. Then the three old maids 
kissed me, and called me Cousin Batt; and the 
white-headed negro who had let me in, came up and 
offered his dusky paw, saying ‘ he ’membered my 
father well; we was boys together, sah!’ And to 
please him, I told him I’d often heard my father 
speak of him, which delighted him as much as if it 
had been the truth. After awhile he snuffed the 
candles, threw on some fresh logs, and took his de- 
parture. 


OLD TIMES, AND A HAPPY DOME. 93 

“ ‘ I wonder/ said the old gentleman, ‘ where 
Anne is/ 

“ ‘I haven’t seen her since supper/ answered one 
of the spinsters. 

She’ll be here presently. She’s got hold of 
that new novel, I expect, “Thaddeus of Warsaw;” 
I saw it lying on the table this afternoon. Will 
you please fill my pipe, Nacky?’ observed old Mr. 
Milburn, complacently. 

“ I wondered who Anne was — whether she were 
old or young, pretty or plain; and while I was won- 
dering, there came a. rousing knock upon the hall 
door. It was quite late and every one started. The 
servants had gone to the quarters; and one of the 
ladies — Miss Nacky — rose to see who it might be. 
I saw that she was frightened, so up I rose, and 
asked leave to answer the knock, which again re- 
sounded in sharp, prolonged echoes through the 
hall. She dropped into her chair, quite willing 
that I should go, and I went. I took down the bar, 
and unlatched the door, which was pushed open by 
some one outside; I stepped forward, and was con- 
fronted by a fair young lady in pointed stomacher, 
brocade dress and train, elbow ruffles, powdered 
hair and feathers, patches, jewels on neck and 
wrists, and pointed shoes. I took it all in at a 
glance; but she no sooner looked up and saw me 
than she gave a little scream, and darted back, pull- 
ing the door to after her, but she had left her train 
inside, she flirted out so swiftly, and I held it tight, 
wondering if she was a crazy person or a ghost. 
Presently I heard a faint voice, saying: ‘ Please, sir, 
let go my dress! ’ 


94 


TWO WAYS. 


“ ‘ If you will walk in, miss, I will with pleasure/ 
I answered. 

“ ‘I'd like to know who you are?' she said, pet- 
tishly; ‘you are very rude, whoever you are!' 

‘“I beg your pardon, miss/ I said, opening the 
door a little, still holding on to the train; ‘my 
name is Milburn, and you had better come in, for I 
don't intend to let go!' 

“ ‘ Open the door, then! ' 

“ ‘I opened the door, and in she sailed, her train 
flowing gracefully, and her high heels clicking 
upon the oil-cloth, not ‘even giving me a glance, so 
high and mighty was her indignation. I ran and 
tiirew open that door there, and when she entered 
this room the three old maids fell to shrieking, and 
the old gentleman — her grandfather — stood like a 
true knight, his crutch uplifted for an instant; 
then he fell back, laughing, into his chair, while 
the antique apparition flew to him, threw herself 
on her knees by his side, flung her arms around his 
neck, and burst out crying. 

“ * Stop squalling, girls ' — he called them girls 
yet — ‘it's Anne. Come, lift up your head, Anne; 
here's a strange cousin from Kentucky.' At first 
she wouldn't, then she did, and it all at once dawned 
upon her that it was a very funny adventure, and 
then we all grew very merry over it; and very, very 
becoming that antique style of dress was to her. 
She had found everything she had on in the old 
cedar-chest; her maid Betsy — our old Maumy now 
— assisted at her toilette, and she had slipped out 
the back way and come round to the hall door, not 
knowing there was a ‘ stranger within the gates.' 


OLD TIMES , AND A HAPPY HOME.. 


95 


That is the first time I ever saw your mother, Hes- 
ter, and I never went any further in search of rela- 
tives; in about a year after, when I had settled up 
my affairs in Kentucky, I came back, and we were 
married.”* 

“Why, mother! my quiet, sweet mammy! what a 
lovely little romance!” cried Hester, sliding her 
arm around her mother, and lifting up the calm and. 
still beautiful face to kiss. “I never should have 
suspected it! What became of them all who sat 
here that night?” 

“Dead,” replied Mr. Milburn; “all of them 
dead.” 

“Thank you, father, very much, for telling me. 
I wonder if any more romances will come out of the 
chest? Mother, you must show me the very things 
you had on! ” 

“Oho!” ejaculated Mr. Milburn, “oho!” 

All this happened one year gone, during which 
Hester had worked deftly and swiftly, embroidering 
the furniture covers at the Convent in patterns of 
beautiful design, every one different, yet each bear- 
ing on the red field a conspicuous blue and white 
flower. Her Christmas gift this year from father 
and mother, was the upholstering of the old furni- 
ture with her rich handiwork; it had been brought 
out from the city the day before Christmas Eve, 
and every piece placed in gorgeous array in its 
place, in anticipation, of her coming. She had not 
heard a hint of what was being done; and you may 
imagine her surprise and delight the first time she 


* This is veritable family history, and no fiction. 


% 


96 


TWO WAYS. 


went into the drawing-room to inspect its dear old 
dingy belongings, and see how she could contrive to 
brighten it up.. The fine new covers, of course, 
made the curtains, in which there was no beauty or 
richness left, look shabby; but they served their 
purpose, and kept out the cold, as did also the 
faded carpet; besides which they kept in counte- 
nance the tarnished mirror-frames, the dark old 
portraits, the quaint spindling silver candelabras, 
the yellow alabaster clock, inlaid with gilt and 
lapis lazuli of the days of Louis XIV., which kept 
as correct time now as it did when it struck the 
hours of “le grande monarque’s 99 victories, in his 
good city of Paris. A great Chinese vase, covered 
with all kinds of creeping, flying, and crawling 
things in cunning bas-relief, corals, flowers, and 
what-not, and filled with rose leaves, lavender, and 
spices, stood on the floor on each side the fireplace, 
as if guarding the place where the ancient Saxons 
believed the angels of God kept watch in every 
household. The odor from the vases, quickened by 
the warmth of the fire, diffused a delicious aroma, 
which filled the apartment like floating incense. 
There was nothing modern here, except a neat rose- 
wood Chickering piano, which Mr. Milbnrn, at no 
little sacrifice to himself, had bought two years 
before, that Hester might lose no time in cultivat- 
ing her fine talent for music when she was home for 
the holidays. 

But the best time to see this apartment where the 
integrity of past styles was so well preserved, and 
where not only precious, but historic memories 
clung, was at twilight, before the candles were 


# 


OLD TIMES , AND A HAPPY HOME. 97 

brought in, when the high, brightly-kept brass 
andirons were piled up with logs of hickory and 
knots of resinous pine, which together chanted 
their death-song in low murmurs as the red flames 
blazed and glittered around them with a feu cle foie 
of sparks that looked and sounded like a weird 
triumph; where grotesque dancing shadows were 
thrown upon the walls, like phantoms of the forest 
kings released from the burning pyre where they 
consumed! At this hour this quaint old room be- 
came as an enchanted hall, where one, lulled by the 
wintry winds chasing around the house, could sit 
and dream, until the dreams seemed real, and the 
real but fantasies. 

And the Milburns loved their old home, notwith- 
standing its lack of fine plenishing and garish 
modern fineries; they sometimes sighed for the 
means to repair their surroundings for Hester’s sake 
but she, with a tender love of all the familiar things 
that she remembered from the earliest dawn of rea- 
son, was well content, and happy in the exercise of 
her ingenuity to brighten them up. She made 
tidies that looked like real lace, she arranged rustic 
baskets, fashioned out of pine-ooneS and acorns, in 
corners and on tables, filled with rich autumnal 
leaves, grasses, and ferns, and set here and there 
vases of the brightest winter flowers that her 
mother’s small greenhouse afforded. 

She was expecting Annie Shirley any time, and 
was busy one evening hanging the crow-foot gar- 
lands, interspersed with scarlet leaves, that she had 
been making nearly all day, adding now a few more 
vivid red or yellow leaves to the bouquets of dried 


98 


TWO WATS. 


ferns and things, presently a cluster of holly-berries, 
where more brightness was required. Long gar- 
lands of crow-foot hung festooned over the tarnished 
mirror-frames, the dinginess of the old portraits 
was relieved by small branches of scarlet maple and 
golden hickory, and the Afghan was thrown care- 
lessly over an end of one of the sofas. Round she 
flitted, singing and chatting with her father and 
mother, who sat by the centre table, the one mak- 
ing pretence to read the daily paper, the other 
placidly knitting, both willing at any moment to 
drop their employment, which she frequently called 
upon them to do, to watch or admire the effect of 
her efforts. How happy they were none might say, 
for such deep content is not to be described. The 
happiness of an upright conscience, mingled with 
that which belongs to the most sacred earthly ties, is 
a better symbol of the restful peace of a blest here- 
after, than anything the human heart can know in 
this its exile. 

“ And now, father, listen, for I have a plan!” 
said Hester, having at length finished her decora- 
tions, and taken her seat on a low tabouret between 
her father and mother. 

“ You don't say so!” observed Mr. Milburn, 
laughing; for he remembered that Hester had been 
making plans ever since she could talk. 

“ Just look at that lovely green garland! doesn't 
it look lovely, pranked out with those scarlet 
Virginia creeper leaves? Well, my plan is this: I 
thought Nora seemed a little lonesome when I put 
her to bed to-night, and if you will be so obliging 
as to leave her at f Hill-side' in the morning, I 


OLD TIMES , AND A HAPPY HOME. 99 

think it will do her good to spend the da} 7 and 
uight with them all.” 

“Very good! I'll take^the little baggage with 
pleasure.” 

“But that is not all, sir. My plan is to drive 
you to the station Wednesday morijing, and on my 
way home pick up Nora and Teddy, that he may 
have a day with her here.” 

“Excellent! Now then?” 

“ Then I'll drive down for you at four o'clock, 
and leave Teddy at home. Nora, you know is 
under my special care. The truth is I'm afraid 
they'll question her too closely about her illness, 
and she'll get started off about the ghost, which the 
doctor says must be avoided; so you see, sir, I must 
not leave her home too often. She’s such a quaint 
little thing! What do you say, mother?” 

“ You're right so far, but I'm afraid you'll spoil 
the child, Hester. It will not be kindness to put 
notions into her head that might make her feel 
above her .station.” 

“Oh, my mammy!” cried Hester, flinging her 
arms around her mother's neck and kissing her 
cheeks; “you can't help it — it is in you and will 
crop out. Ah, if you only knew how the world is 
running away from 16th century ideas! but what 
need you care, darling, in this old castle, where 
you're crowned queen? But let me tell you some- 
thing! You know that our little peasant girl is to 
be educated for a governess. She's so clever and 
bright, that she'll lose none of her opportunities, 
but improve every one. Now, mammy, you know 
that people who are rich enough to employ a gov- 


100 


TWO WAYS. 


erness, naturally wish their daughters also to be 
trained in the manners, aud — what’s the word? yes, 
deportment, thank you, father, of ladies. If Nora 
does not learn something of such ways, how can she 
teach them to others?” 

“ Yes, that is very true,” answered Mrs. Milburn, 
carefully taking up a stitch she had dropped. 

“ As a system,” observed Mr. Milburn, laying his 
paper across his knees, “the governess should be 
treated with consideration and respect by parents, 
as their equal, and not as an upper servant kept 
aloof from the family circle, and snubbed from the 
parlor to the kitchen, if they desire their children 
should profit by her teaching; for none are more 
swift, than these * little pitchers with big ears,’ to 
see and imitate any disrespect shown her. Hence 
teachers should have every advantage socially and 
otherwise in the family, by which they will be able 
to command the respect and obedience of their 
pupils. Without this, the best efforts of the best 
governess in the world are fruitless of good. That 
is my theory! ” 

“Father, I move a vote of thanks from the great 
army of governesses, for your enlightened views! 
So, then, Teddy is to come, and Nora is to stay on 
with us, and whenever she can in the future?” 

“ Of course, child! I see now that it will help to 
prepare her for her career. And I was thinking, 
Hester,” said Mrs. Milburii, “of a lot of dresses 
and things of yours that you suddenly sprouted out 
of, and grew too long for, when you were about 
Nora’s age, when they were as good as new; we 
must get them out, and see how T they’ll do for her.” 


OLD TIMES, AND A HAPPY HOME. 101 


“Oh, clearest mammy, how sweet of you ! Now 
Pm going to sing something youfil like/’ said 
Hester, going to the piano and running her fingers 
over the keys. Then up rose her sweet voice like a 
lark, singing in clear, round tones the almost for- 
gotten ballad of “Auld Robin Gray,” then others, 
that carried back the hearts of her listeners to a 
past of mingled bitter and sweet. 

But the clock on the mantel struck eleven; Mrs. 
Milburn arose and rang the bell, so that such of the 
servants who were up might come in to prayers. 
Mr. Milburn read prayers in his family morning 
and evening — a good old Catholic custom which 
probably the distance of “ Oak Grove ” from 
church, none being nearer than the city, had kept 
from falling into disuse. The few slaves left them 
had been baptized, and conscientiously instructed 
iu the faith of their owners, even as their only child 
had been; widely sundered by circumstances from 
each other they were, but without distinction be- 
fore God, except that the responsibility of their 
souls fell upon their masters, who, being prohibited 
by the laws of the land from enlightening the minds 
of their slaves, were yet under a solemn obligation, 
by the requirements of their faith, to impart unto 
them the saving knowledge necessary to their salva- 
tion, and see that they had opportunities afforded 
them to receive the Sacraments of the Church. 


CHAPTER VII. 


HAYING A GOOD TIME. 

Nora Kinsella was cheery looking enough when 
she came down-stairs next morning, notwithstanding 
the “ lonesomeness ” of the night before. After 
morning prayers, and while the family were waiting- 
breakfast, Mr. Milburn kindly set himself to work 
to get better acquainted with Nora, by teaching 
her how to play “ battledore.” She was a little 
scared at first and awkward enough, while her coun- 
tenance was as serious as that of a judge, until one 
unskilful blow sent the bird right between Mr. Mil- 
burn's eyes, and another took him on the side of his 
nose, — accidents which he received in such a merry 
way that she felt no more fear and entered heartily 
into the spirit of the game, with such steady hand 
and true aim that the bird was kept flying to and fro 
some twenty or thirty times without falling. 

After breakfast Nora was bundled up head and 
ears, and tucked under the buffalo sleigh-robes, to go 
as far as “Hill-side” with Mr. Milburn. A small 
basket full of iced jumbles and tarts was placed in 
her care for Teddy; Hester said, “ Pm coming for 
you and Teddy to-morrow morning; be sure you are 
both ready. Good-by until then.” Mr. Milburn 
took the reins, and the next moment, with the 
music of bells merrily jingling in the keen frosty air. 


HAVING A GOOD TIME . 


103 


she was flying as swiftly as a swallow over the smooth, 
frozen snow. “Poor little thing!” said Hester, 
when she went back to the dining-room; “ how 
happy she looks.” 

“If that word ‘poor* didn’t imply affection in- 
stead of pity down here, in our Maryland, I should 
say it was out of place, in this instance; for the 
child, besides having better prospects than was ever 
hoped for, looks as merry as a cricket. But, Hes- 
ter my dear,” said Mrs. Milburn, who from her long 
seclusion had grown sensitive and shy of strangers, 
“ tell me something of x\nnie Shirley. I do hope 
she is not one of that sort of young people who im- 
agine that persons who cannot make a grand display 
are not worth speaking to, or of being treated with 
civility.” 

“My dearest mother, she and I could not be 
friends if she was like that, for there’d be no sympa- 
thy between us,” replied Hester, gravely; “ Annie 
Shirley is a dear, simple-hearted girl, cheerful, lady- 
like, and very clever!” 

“ I suppose she is, as you’re not given to hasty 
friendships, and * gush ’ as your father calls it.” 

“ It’s my nature, mammy; but I love Annie Shir- 
ley dearly!” 

“ I shall be glad to have her here, and hope she’ll 
enjoy her visit!” 

“Oh, I’m sure of that, mother; but she has a 
weakness,” said Hester, gravely. 

“What is it? Nothing very disagreeable, I 
hope.” 

“ It’s a weakness that you highly approve of, my 
dear mammy; she’s very fond of f goodies,’ and I 


104 


TWO WAYS. 


know that she’ll enjoy our Christmas dainties/ — the 
nicest to be found this side the Potomac! ” 

“ She shall have plenty of them. Betsey has just 
made the most delicious cheese-cakes I ever tasted; 
the mince-pies are splendid; and as for cake, we have 
a black-cake that weighs twenty pounds, with all 
sorts of fruit in it; we have sponge-cake, and jum- 
bles, all iced in beautiful patterns of flowers, and zig- 
zag vines,” said Mrs. Milburn, in all the pride of an 
old fashioned Southern housekeeper. 

Together chatting, busy upstairs and down, 
mother and daughter passed the day. The clothes 
of which Mrs. Milburn spoke the night before, that 
Hester had outgrown, were unpacked and looked 
over, and it was thought that very little alteration 
would be required. After that Hester went to the 
“ negro quarter,” to see one or two “ old aunties ” 
who were bed-ridden, and gladdened their hearts by 
giving them little packages of snuff, and new pipes, 
her mother had got out of the store-room for that 
purpose. Then evening came, bringing Mr. Mil- 
burn full of city news; the firelight danced upon 
the old walls to the music of Hester’s piano, and the 
day ‘ended as usual. 

The sun rose on Wednesday as if no cloud had 
ever darkened the heavens. The weather was keen 
and crisp, and the sky so intensely blue that the 
great leafless trees looked like wonderful traceries 
upon it; it was a life-giving, bracing day; and Hes- 
ter, full of the exhilaration of the frosty air, after 
leaving her father at the station, spun away to “ Hill- 
side ” with sleigh-bells jingling, — the magnificent 
Afghan, like a coiled-up rainbow, over her knees. 


nAYING A GOOD UME . 


105 


its gay tassels and fringes floating gayly over the 
sides. 

“I have come for you two,” called Hester to the 
children, who had heard the bells, and came running 
to the door; “get your things on quick! 1 can't 
get out to-day.” 

Mrs. Kinsella, delighted that Teddy was going to 
have a fine holiday, soon bundled him up, and 
brought him out in her arms, for fear he might slip 
on his way to the sleigh on the frozen snow, and 
lifted him in, when Hester fixed him in the corner 
of the seat beside her, so that he could lean his poor 
lame back against the padded lining; then Nora 
looking like a young Esquimaux, was led out, hoisted 
in, and put under cover. 

“ Ah, Miss, it's a blessed thing to make other peo- 
ple happy! I don't know when my heart's been so 
light an' all through your kindness, Miss Hester,” 
said Mrs. Kinsella, still standing by the sleigh, her 
pale face beaming with gratitude. 

“ It is very easy and pleasant to be kind, Mrs. Kin- 
sella. I’ll fetch Teddy back this afternoon, and you 
needn't be uneasy about him, for we'll all take care 
of him.” 

“ I'm sure of it, Miss, and thank you for sending 
him back; for granny has got that quare about 
Teddy, that if he ain't to the fore when she gets 
home from market, she works herself into such a 
stew you can't think! ” 

“ He’ll be here by five o'clock, certain, if that will 
be time enough, Mrs. Kinsella.” 

“ Plenty, Miss Hester; she seldom gets back till 
after five, market-days, and I'm so thankful he's goin’ 


106 


TWO WAYS. 


along with Nora. Just look at the eyes of ’em, how 
full of laugh they be, peepin’ out of them furs and 
things. The Lord bless you, Miss, for making His 
own precious holiday so happy for my fatherless 
ones,” said Mrs. Kinsella, whose heart was very full. 

“ Give my love to granny, and tell her I’m com- 
ing here before I go back to school, to hear some- 
thing about the f good people,’ ” said'Hester, nodding 
good-by to Mrs. Kinsella as she drove off. But a 
sudden shout from Teddy made her draw rein 
quickly, to see what was the matter. 

“My crutches, mammy, my crutches!” he shouted; 
“I left ’em on the floor when you picked me up.” 
It did not require two minutes to bring out the 
crutches, which Teddy eagerly grasped, and tucked 
between his knees for safe keeping; and they 
at last got off, laughing merrily at the idea of Ted- 
dy’s starting on his travels without his props. Their 
merriment, and the sleigh-bells together, sounded 
very sweetly to Mrs. Kinsella, who stood in the open 
door, listening until the echoes died away in the dis- 
tance. 

Ten minutes’ swift driving brought them to 
“Oak Grove.” The children’s wraps were soon 
taken off, and Hester took them to see her mother, 
who was busy in the pantry clipping citron for a mys- 
terious pudding that she and Maum Betsy were pre- 
paring to make, while a bright eyed little darkey 
pounded sweet-smelling-spices in a marble mortar as 
old as the hills. Mrs. Milburn spoke kindly to Nora 
and Teddy, and finding their cheeks very cold when 
she kissed them, she hurried Hester away with 
them to the fire. 


HAVING A GOOD TIME. 


107 


“ But Fm coming back, mother; it smells so 
sweet here, Fd like to help,” she said, laughing 
over her shoulder as she went away with her little 
guests. 

“ Help one eat too!” chuckled Maum Betsy; 
“ that’s the way she’ll help.” 

Hester sent Nora up for her doll and her work- 
box, and told Teddy to come with her into the 
library. The boy felt as if he were suddenly in an- 
other existence; in the midst of surroundings so 
different from any he had ever seen before, his eyes 
glistened with pleasure, and he swung himself along 
on his crutches as forgetful of his lameness as if he 
trod on air. 

“Now, Teddy,” said Hester, laying her hand on 
three very large volumes which Mr. Milburn had 
taken down from a high shelf, and placed there for 
the boy’s inspection that morning before breakfast, 
“these books are full of pictures and designs, but 
I’m afraid they are quite too heavy for you to man- 
age. What shall we do? ” 

“If I might have them on the floor. Miss,” he 
said, shyly. 

“So you shall, right here- in the light. There! 
Now let’s see how you’ll get at them! ” 

“Just this way, Miss,” said Teddy, slipping down 
upon the floor from his crutches, which he laid 
down beside him; then he turned upon his side and 
leaning upon his left elbow, was able to manage the 
pages easily with his right hand. “It’s easier to 
me so, Miss, than sitting in a chair,” he added, rais- 
ing his intelligent gray eyes to hers. 

“I’m so glad you’re comfortable! Here comes 


108 


TWO WAYS. 


Nora. Now, Nora, you must entertain Teddy while 
I run away to help mother. " 

“'Deed and I will, Miss/' replied Nora, seating 
herself upon the hearth-rug, quite near him. 

Hester ran up to her room; but she scarcely had 
time to put on her pretty apron, and fix up her hair 
which the sleighride had shaken out in loose glossy 
folds over neck and cheeks, when a sudden tumult 
of sleighbells arose without. She went to the win- 
dow, and saw the Shirley sleigh just drawing up to 
the hall door, with Annie and her two younger 
brothers in it, and Jack Shirley acting as driver. 

“ What upon earth shall I do with him? I hope 
he's going back," was Hester's first thought. 

At this instant Annie Shirley looked up, and 
caught her friend's eye. Hester nodded to her to 
come up; which she did, after she had turned the 
boys into the library, where the servant who came 
to the door had invited them. Jack followed as 
soon as one of the men took charge of the 
horses. 

There needed no formality between the two girls; 
a warm embrace, and “I'm glad to see you! " from 
Hester, and “ I'm so glad to be here! " from Annie, 
expressed the true feelings of each. 

“ Let me help you to take off your things." 

“No, indeed! There, — they're off! Hester, did 
you know that I’ve brought the Philistines upon 
you? I couldn't help it, indeed; they would have 
broken their hearts had I left them home. But oh, 
the time that I had persuading Jack to drive! At 
last his good-nature prevailed, — for our driver is ill, 
and he had either to come, or we to stay. I haven't 


HA VING A GOOD TIME. 


109 


the least idea what you’ll do with him, unless you 
you have a convenient empty cupboard that he can 
hide himself in.” 

“ How heroic, and how funny of him to place 
himself in so trying a position! ” said Hester, laugh- 
ing; “I’m sure I won’t hurt him! ” 

“ I wish you would, then; he’s such a born goose 
that he deserves punishment. I hope, though, 
that our sudden coming will not interfere with any 
family plan.” 

“Not in the least. We’ve been expecting you 
daily, and it’s splended to have you all here to- 
gether! ” 

“ I saw Nora in the library, looking as happy as a 
queen, and a little lame fellow, who I suppose is . 
Teddy.” 

“ Yes, that’s Teddy. It was such a surprise to 
me when I found out that the Kinsella’s live on a 
small place of my father’s, not far from our gate, on 
the other side of the railroad; I hadn’t the least 
idea of such a thing until the day I came home, and 
Nora spied Teddy at the door. Isn’t it nice? ” 

“ Yes, indeed. I’m very glad to hear it. But 
come, Hester, I’m ready to go down. I’m really 
afraid that Jack will take to the woods, and I’m ex- 
pecting every instant to hear the ‘twa dogs ’ howl, 
not being used to going amongst strangers. Oh, 
dear! this house reminds me of some of those cen- 
tury-old homes we used to be invited to when we 
were in England last year; it’s just delicious to be 
here, and with you, Hester,” said Annie Shirley, as 
she and Hester went down-stairs together, and 
turned their steps towards the library, where they 


110 


TWO WAYS. 


saw the two boys on the floor looking at the pictures 
with Teddy, while Jack stood upon the hearth-rug, 
so engrossed in the examination of a group in Usque 
from the antique, upon the mantel which was just 
on a level with his eyes, that he did not observe 
their entrance. 

“Miss Hester Milburn, Jack! " said Annie, touch' 
ing his elbow. The shy fellow wheeled round, 
bowed, and stretched out his big red hand; but 
fearing that he had made a blunder, he drew it 
quickly back before Hester had time to take it; his 
face glowing like a furnace, his tongue speechless. 

“ Fm glad to see you, Mr. Shirley! Did you find 
the sleighing good all the way? Annie tells me you 
drove her out," said Hester, seeing that something 
must be said. 

“Yes, quite so — that is, I mean — thank you!" 

“It is very cold yet; but so clear and bright! " 

“ Yes, it's splendid! " 

“ It would be fine weather for base-ball if it were 
not for the snow; but it's beautiful for skating." 

“ Yes, there's the best skating I ever saw," he 
answered, looking for the first time into Hester's 
face, whose eyes were twinkling with merriment. 

“She's just like the rest of them; she's laughing 
at me," he thought. Then he dropped again into 
the depths of mauvaise-honte , and wished himself 
upon the top of Mount Ararat, where no man has 
ever set his foot since the deluge — it is said. 

“ Are you fond of shooting? " inquired Hester at 
a venture. 

“ Shooting at things with guns? Yes, very," he 
jerked out. 


HAVING A GOOD TIME. 


Ill 


“1*11 send him off to shoot rabbits,” thought 
Hester, “ otherwise Pm afraid I shall seem rude. 
I never saw such a boy! ” 

“ I wish,” thought Jack, “ that she'd offer me a 
gun to go out and shoot squirrels with.” 

“My father has a very curious assortment of fire- 
arms, from blunderbusses down to sharp shooters, 
and things that go off ten times without stopping. 
Not that he uses them himself; but he has a fancy 
to make a collection. I'll show them to you, if you 
like?” 

“ Pd like it very much — I beg your pardon — that 
is, if it wouldn't be troublesome to show them!” 

“Notin the least troublesome. Father's den — 
that's what he calls it — is on the other side of the 
house; it used to be the Squire's office in old times. 
Come, Annie!” 

“ I wouldn't go there for the world, Pm so mor- 
tally afraid of guns even when they have no load in 
them. Take Jack along, he dotes on such things,” 
said Annie, with a merry laugh, and mischievously 
enjoying the amazing sight of her girl-hating 
brother being thus captured. 

Arrived at the “den” through various winding 
passages, and quaint, closed rooms, Jack Shirley 
was at once interested in the curious display of fire- 
arms — all of them highly polished, and very bright 
— that hung against the walls. He forgot Hester as 
he proceeded to examine them, until she said: “If 
you'll excuse me now, I’ll go back to Annie. If you 
should fancy a little rabbit-shooting, there's my 
father’s gun hanging over the fireplace. The 
game-bag and powder and things, are in that little 


112 


TWO WAYS. 


cupboard in the corner. But the birds are my sub- 
jects, and 1 have made a law that no one shall ever 
shoot one of them on this place. Rabbits — poor 
little creatures — get to be nuisances to the crops, 
father says, and so they have no mercy shown 
them! ” 

“ Thank you, I'll go with pleasure; it’s just the 
thing 1 like,” said Jack Shirley, his shyness and 
awkwardness forgotten, as he took down the gun 
and game-bag. 

“We dine at half -past three; it is nearly twelve 
now. I'll send one of the negro boys to show you 
the way,” said Hester, leaving him. 

“That's a girl with no nonsense in her! She's as 
good as a boy,” thought Jack Shirley, highly re- 
lieved, however, when he saw the last flutter of her 
skirts disappear through the door. 

When, duly equipped with everything necessary 
for an hour's sport, Jack Shirley sallied out of the 
door of the “den,” he found a negro boy in waiting, 
who gave a jerk to the front of his coon-skin cap, 
saying: “Young missis sont me, sab, to g'long to beat 
up de rabbits! ” 

“ Come on! I'm glad to have you, Toby! ” 

“ I's Jess, Massa,” said the boy, grinning; 
“dar’s plenty o' rabbits down yonder in de gulley.” 
Then he whistled up his dog, and they started. 

When Hester got back to the library, she found 
Annie Shirley half wild in the vain attempt to keep 
her two young brothers in order. Colin and Phil 
declared they had “come to spend the day in the 
country, and not in a mufly old house; they wanted 
to go out, they did, and have a good time in the 


HAVING A GOOD TIME. 


113 


snow.” [None of them saw Hester, who, not caring 
to intrude on a family scene, for fear of mortifying 
Annie, quietly seated herself in the drawing-room, 
until peace should be restored. 

“But the dogs, Colin!” remonstrated Annie. 

“I don’t care for dogs; dogs always make friends 
with me and Phil, — don’t they, Phil?” 

“ But you’ll take cold, and mamma will never let 
you come again ! ” 

“A-h-h-h! Listen to her! Cold! We ain’t 
girls. I won't stay in ! ” 

“But you shall!” said Annie, positively. 

“You see, then! Come ’long, Phil!” 

They started to rush out, but Annie headed them 
off, and went full chase after them around the library 
table, through the hall and back again, until, reck- 
less with mischief, they began to leap over Teddy, 
and dance a war-dance around him, dodging their 
sister’s hands with an agility perfectly amazing. 
There lay poor Teddy upon the floor, the great folios 
of designs and etchings spread open around him, 
expecting every instant to have the young savages 
trip over and fall upon him, or else tread or jump 
upon him, when all at once Nora, who had been 
watchful of the scene, and trembling for Teddy’s 
safety could stand it no longer, but sprang to the 
rescue, her eyes flaming, her cheeks crimson. She 
seized one of Teddy’s crutches, and flung it round 
her as if animated by the spirit of “Donnybrook 
Fair;” Colin caught a sounding rap on his head, 
Phil another on his knuckles, while Annie, who had 
dropped exhausted upon the sofa, cried out, as well 
she could for laughing: 


114 


TWO WAYS, 


“ Lay on, Macduff! Lay on hard! They deserve 
it!” 

Hester now appeared on the scene, seeing how 
futile all of Annie’s efforts to bring the young imps 
to order had proved, and really afraid that Nora 
might, in her energetic defence of Teddy, give one 
of them a blow that would prove serious. The 
combatants saw her as she stood there grave and 
silent, and hostilities instantly ceased. 

“Fm so ashamed, Hester! Don’t blame Nora. 
You can’t think how grateful I am to her. Those 
two, Colin and Phil, were tormenting Teddy. Oh 
dear me!” exclaimed Annie Shirley, laughing so 
heartily that her efforts to explain the situation 
were almost unintelligible. 

“ What’s the row about, boys? Come and tell 
me,” said Hester, scarcely able to command her 
countenance. 

“Beg Miss Milburn’s pardon instantly, Colin,” 
said Annie. 

“Never mind that now. Come, speak up, and 
tell me what set you to dancing and prancing over 
my friend Teddy there?” 

“We just wanted to go out in the snow, we didn’t 
want to stick in the house; and — and — and we 
started to run, then she chased us, and so — and so — 
so,” stammered Colin, getting more ashamed every 
instant. 

“You thought you’d play leap-frog over Teddy. 
Boys, do you know that Teddy is lame?” 

“I didn’t mind ’em, Miss,” said Teddy, bravely. 

“No, we didn’t. How was we to know a fellow 
was lame, and he sprawled on the floor all the time? 


HAVING A GOOD TIME. 


115 


That girl there give me such a rap ’cross my head, 1 
tell yon what, if it had been a boy I’d gone for her 
sure,” said Colin, doubling up his fist and rubbing 
his head, until his hair stood up like the “quills of 
a fretted porcupine. ” 

“Well, now we are quits, and I’ll tell you what 
we’ll all do,” said Hester, trying her best not to 
laugh, and making a sign to Annie to hold her peace; 
“ we’ll all wrap up, and go out on the lawn and 
build a snow fort; there’s plenty of loose snow in 
the drifts under the trees.” 

“Didn’t I tell you so? Hurrah!” shouted Phil. 
Nobody knew in the least what he had toM, but it 
made no difference, they were now in such a gale of 
delight. 

But their happiness had this effect, — it made 
Colin magnanimous. He marched up to Teddy, 
held out his hand, and spoke loud enough for every 
one to hear, which he generally did. 

“I say, little boy, I beg your pardon!” 

Teddy took the proffered hand, and, with one of 
his little gruff laughs, said: “Never mind! you 
didn’t hurt me.” 

“ Come, Annie, you’ve got to help. Bundle up 
the boys while I run and order round a garden 
wheelbarrow, shovels, and darkies,” said Hester, 
merrily. 

“ May I go too. Miss?” asked Nora. 

“ Yes, it will do you good to be in a romp in the 
open air; go put on your rubbers and wraps; but 
stop a minute, Nora; I want you to look in the 
bottom drawer of my bureau, and you’ll find a lot of 
old buckskin riding-gloves; fetch them all down, 


116 


TWO WAYS. 


little woman, they’ll be splendid for us. I’ll fii 
Teddy comfortably at the window, where he can see 
the fun.” 

“How jolly to have a regular out-door romp with 
you, Hester!” said Annie Shirley, as they sallied out 
of the hall-door, looking like a family of Lapland- 
ers, they were so bundled up. The buckskin gaunt- 
lets proved to be a brilliant idea. Outside they 
were reinforced by two small darkies, whose glisten- 
ing eyes and white teeth showed how much they 
expected to enjoy the frolic. 

“I haven’t the smallest idea how to direct the 
building of a fort,” whispered Hester, in confidence 
to Annie. “See here, boys, I never saw a fort, but 
I think a tower will be better, and when it's finished 
we’ll attack it, and if the enemy won’t surrender 
we’ll blow it up with gunpowder.” 

This change of base, crowned by the brilliant idea 
of a gunpowder explosion, was agreed to by accla- 
mation, and with loud huzzas, and to work they 
went; Colin and the darkey-boys shovelling the 
snow into the wheelbarrow and conveying it to the 
spot marked off for a square tower, the foundations 
of which soon arose as by magic, under the busy 
hands of the rest of the party. It is easy to imagine 
the delight of the architects as it arose higher and 
higher; their excited shouts and merry laughter, 
their bright eyes and crimson cheeks. How and 
then a soft snowball was shied, by way of a friendly 
remembrance, towards Teddy at the window, who 
watched the proceedings with delight, and with- 
out envious repinings at not being able to join 
in the sport, for he had never known other than his 


HAVING A GOOD TIME. 


117 


lame life, and this day had been such a bright one 
to him that he felt more than satisfied. 

It was an octagon tower, this snow fortress they 
were building, with narrow outlooks here and there; 
and as the walls arose Hester forbade their being 
smoothed, as in their rough state they would look 
more like stone; and at last, when it reached above 
her head, she announced that it was high enough, 
and must be finished off with turrets. A step-lad- 
der was brought from the house, and the turrets 
added, which really gave it a very imposing appear- 
ance. A loop-hole had been left at the base, out of 
sight, however, through which to introduce the 
powder and fuse. The powder was put into a long- 
necked gourd, and the fuse was conducted through 
the neck of the gourd out some distance from the 
tower, over a narrow .space of ground, from which 
the snow had been scraped clean. A strip of the 
famous red cloth was fastened to the end of a stick, 
and planted on the turreted summit, where it waved 
and fluttered defiance. 

“ How, everybody fall to and make snowballs,” 
said Hester, when everything was completed about 
the stronghold. No sooner said than done; -and in 
a little while piles of snowballs were ready for 
action. Then the party formed themselves in line 
of battle, and the attack began with great spirit, 
but small harm to the tower. More than a hundred 
snowballs had been projected, with no further dam- 
age to the enemy than knocking off one of the tur- 
rets and smashing in one of the window-slits. The 
missiles thrown by the girls generally fell wide of 
their aim; that is, they took aim at the tower and' 


118 


TWO WAYS. 


they flew east and west, sometimes straight up, 
whence they descended on somebody's head; the 
boys did better, — the young darkeys best of all; but 
the red flag still floated there, showing that the 
enemy refused to surrender. 

“The mine must be sprung! Colin, draw off 
your forces as far as that elm-tree with the ivy 
around the trunk; I will light the fuse,” ordered 
Hester. Off they all scampered, none going faster 
than Annie Shirley, who gathered her skirts around 
her and ran as if she expected to be shot at any 
moment. 

Just at this critical time John Shirley, with “his 
gun upon his shoulder” and two dead rabbits dang- 
ling from his hand, approached, followed by Jess 
and the dog. 

“Go over there with the rest; there's to be an 
explosion,” cried Hester. 

“ Make haste, Jack, we're, going to blow up the 
tower! ” shouted Colin. 

“Oh, do run, Jack! Don't stand there mooning 
round; you'll get hurt!” shrieked Annie. 

“Can I help you?” he asked Hester, standing 
stock still. 

“ Only by obeying orders; I'm going to light the 
fuse,” she replied. 

“ Just wait a minute, please,” he said, with a 
Hash of humor in his eyes. Then he fixed a rabbit 
on each side of the top of the stronghold, so that 
their heads and fore-legs stuck out between the tur- 
rets. The besiegers hurrahed and shrieked with 
laughter at the comical effect produced, just as .if 
the enemy had risen to show their defiant heads. 


HAVING A GOOD TIME. 119 

after which Jack obeyed orders by joining the 
attacking party. Hester struck a match, touched 
the fuse, and ran as if for life to the shelter of the 
elm-tree. The fuse burnt slowly, but presently the 
explosion took place; the rabbits flew here and 
there in fragments of legs, ears, and scraps of fur; 
there was a shower of snow, the tower was razed to 
the ground, the dogs howled, and never stopped 
running until they got to their kennels, 'the red 
flag hung dangling from the limb of a tree, there 
were shrill shrieks of laughter and huzzas, and a gen- 
eral tumbling of the boys, black and white together, 
in the snow, succeeded by a regular pounding game 
of snowball, led by Jack Shirley. Forgetting his 
bashfulness in the tempest of fun, into which he 
had so unexpectedly plunged he led the game, and 
absolutely found “ heart of grace ” to pelt the three 
girls into the house, where, after their ignominious 
flight, they found Teddy still perched in the large 
cushioned chair in the drawing-room, full of glee, 
and weak with laughter at the novel rough sort of 
play he had witnessed. 

They had just time to smooth up a little for din- 
ner, when Mrs. Milburn came into the library to 
say some pleasant words of welcome to them all, 
and hope they were enjoying themselves. As they 
were every one radiant with glee, words were 
scarcely necessary for answer; and as their outdoor 
frolic had also given them the appetites of vultures, 
they were overjoyed when the dining-room servant 
announced dinner; and if you have ever sat down to 
an old-fashioned Maryland dinner about Christmas 
time, you can imagine the zest with which they 


120 


TWO WAYS. 


enjoyed the generous and delicious fare outspread 
before them. 

At four o’clock the Shirleys started home, declar- 
ing they had never spent so jolly a day in their lives. 
Mrs. Milburn was much pleased with her young 
visitors, and urged them to remain all night, but 
Annie met her approbation by saying; “ Although 
I should be delighted to stay, and I’m sure the boys 
would too. I’m afraid mamma would think we had 
met with an accident on the railroad, or something, 
and make herself very miserable; but we’ll come 
again, Mrs. Milburn, if you’ll please invite us.” 

“ Invite you, my dear! Consider yourself and 
brothers invited for whenever you like to come. 
We never make preparations for company, so that 
there’s a warm welcome, without trouble, always 
ready for our friends. Hester’s friends, you know, 
are also ours,” said the gentle lady. Then ‘‘good- 
byes” were exchanged, and the Shirleys drove off. 
A little later, Hester bundled Teddy into the sleigh, 
into which one of the large folios of designs was 
placed for his use, and a bundle of cake for his 
mother, and left him at home glowing with the 
novel delights of the day, after which she drove to 
the station to meet her father. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Hester's visit to ahnie shirley. 

Mr. Milburn was off to town, aud Hester was 
assisting and chatting with her mother in the din- 
ing-room, when a man on horseback galloped up to 
the hall door and made a rat-a-tat-tat with the 
knocker that caused his summons to be answered 
without delay, and with great curiosity, by one of 
the nimble-footed young negroes from the kitchen. 
A letter was handed in, and, without waiting for an 
answer, the messenger rode off again. It was a 
letter from Annie Shirley, begging Hester to come 
and spend two or three days with .her. “ Mamma," 
she wrote, “ sends her love, and says the sleigh will 
be sent for you to-morrow morning, between eleven 
and twelve o'clock. Be sure you do not disappoint 
me, dear Hester. I am going to have a few friends 
Thursday evening, and Jack has promised to be on 
his very best behavior, if he can have somebody to 
talk to who won't expect him to make a fool of 
himself. You know that this brother of mine 
thinks that the chit-chat of society, and dancing, 
are foolish, and that base-ball, rowing-matches, and 
gunning are the only topics worthy the notice of 
masculine wisdom. He compliments you by saying 
that you are as good as a boy! If you don't feel 
complimented at that, I shall believe that you are 


122 


TWO WAYS. 


free of all vanity I He's awfully crude; but papa 
says there's so much sterling good in him, that he's 
to be let alone, and in time he'll find out his mis- 
takes himself. I don’t know much about that part 
of it; I only get half frantic, sometimes, at his odd 
ways, especially when he undertakes to lecture me 
about the most harmless things in the world; as if 
I could, even if I wanted to, set up for a paragon. 
And mamma just laughs at him. So do come to 
my help, dearest Hester; I want you first of all, be- 
cause I love you dearly; and next, because you're 
the only girl I know who can talk to him about guns 
and things." 

Hester laughed out. 

“What are you laughing over, child?" asked 
Mrs. Milburn, holding up a glass dish that she had 
been wiping, to see if it was clear. 

“ It's a letter from Ai\nie Shirley, mother. She 
wants me to come and spend a day or two with her; 
she's going to have a small party, and seems to rely 
upon me to keep her eccentric brother in order 
by talking to him about guns and things. I 
don't think I should fancy being a bear-leader, 
though! " 

“You don't call that fine youth who was here day 
before yesterday a ‘bear,' surely! I was delighted 
with him, he seemed so frank and agreeable. I 
could but notice how nicely he behaved to Teddy, 
helping him to things, and chatting with him all 
through dinner. I don't think there can be the 
least bit of nonsense about a lad like that." 

“ But he does make himself very disagreeable to 
Annie, sometimes, and I think he must either be 


HESTER'S VISIT TO ANNIE SHIRLEY. 123 

conceited, or his head is too old for his shoulders,” 
said Hester. 

“ He’ll grow up to his head, my dear, depend 
upon it he will. Like a great many fine lads, he 
has an ideal standard of excellence; added to this 
he is shy, which makes him awkward and rather 
chaotic, at present; but depend on it there’s good 
gold under the 'hay and stubble’ of his character.” 

"That’s just what Mr. Shirley thinks; but I tell 
you what it is, mother, I don’t see why people 
should choose to make things that are good dis- 
agreeable, and themselves like a 'fretted porcu- 
pine.’ I don’t feel very amiable towards Jack Shir- 
ley! The idea of his lecturing a girl like Annie! I 
don’t know about going,” said Hester, thoughtfully. 

"Oh, yes, you’ll go, daughter. Annie expects it, 
you see, and it will not be friendly to refuse. Your 
pretty India muslin, with the coral set that Charley 
Mackin sent you from Genoa for your last birthday, 
and that lovely crimson sash of mine that has been 
wrapped up in lavender ever since I was married, 
will make such a pretty evening toilette for you! 
Your father will like to have you go, so shall I.” 

"Well, mother, since you wish it, 4 1 will go; but 
I’d much rather stay at home. It does seem a little 
mean, though, not to be willing to sacrifice my own 
inclinations to my friend. But if I do go, I’ll say 
some plain things to Jack Shirley, if it comes in my 
way!” 

“A little in that line won’t hurt him,” remarked 
Mrs. Milburn. 

" I will leave Nora with her mother until I come 
back, for you have cares enough of your own, ' my 


124 


TWO WATS. 


mammy/ without having her to look after,” said 
Hester. 

“She's the best little thing in the world, and 
would be no trouble; but I don't tliiirk it would be 
safe to let her sleep alone yet awhile, she might get 
frightened in the night by the trees scraping against 
the house, or by the mice scampering up and down 
the laths inside the wall; so it will be better for her 
to be with her mother. How rosy and plump she is 
getting! " 

“ And how nice she is growing to look, now that 
her hair is kept smooth, and her clothes are made 
like other children's. I declare, she's very pretty!” 

“ She has a deal of character in her face. But 
what else does Annie Shirley say?” 

“Oh! I forgot my letter," said Hester, taking up 
the letter and running her eyes rapidly down the 
page. “I'm sorry — but, mother, I can't read out 
the rest, because there's something here about some 
one who is a stranger to you.” 

“ That's right, my dear, I don't wish to hear it. 
You have no right to repeat that which would give 
me a bad opinion of a person of whom I might 
otherwise think well. If you and Annie Shirley 
speak to each other in confidence, and without mal- 
ice, of a person whose faults you both know, it is a 
different thing altogether. But the less even that 
is done, the better.” 

“ There's no malice, mother, and I'm sure she 
feels sorry, as well as I do. She sends her affection- 
ate love to you, and says she never had a happier 
day in her life than the one she spent here, and 
hopes to come again soon.” 


HESTER'S VISIT TO ANNIE SIIIRLEY. 125 

“Tell her, with my love, that she’ll be always 
welcome. She’s a nice girl. But, Hester dear, I 
think you’d better go upstairs, and get out the 
things you intend to take with you, so as to have no 
hurry at the last moment. I do hate putting things 
off until just before one starts, then hurrying until 
one is red in the face, and going away not at all cer- 
tain that the very articles most important for one to 
take are in the trunk, or left upon the bed.” 

“The whole world seems to be in a hurry,” re- 
marked Hester, absently. 

“ It wasn’t so in my young days,” said Mrs. Mil- 
burn, with a gentle sigh. 

Hester went up to her room to get out her things, 
folded them neatly, ready to be packed in a small 
light trunk, while Nora flitted around, and finally 
sat down to feast her eyes upon the beautiful set of 
coral jewelry that Hester gave her to look at. Then 
she took out Annie Shirley’s letter to give it a sec- 
ond reading, and as I — by the hocus-pocus of the 
pen — have the power to look over her shoulder, we 
will read that portion of it which she, governed by 
charity, was silent about, because it forms one of 
the threads in the woof of our story. 

“You know,” wrote Annie, “that Bessie Shaw 
got herself invited to Madge Ward’s for the holi- 
days; Ada Gray expected to go there too; but her 
little sister died, and she'was sent for to come home. 
They have been very gay at the Wards; but Bessie 
Shaw sees that they are new people — indeed, Hester, 
I don’t mean to be ill-natured, but that is the only 
expression by which I can convey my meaning — and 
she has had the bad taste to make fun of them to 


126 


Tiro WATS. 


some of our friends, and she their guest, too, riding 
about in their carriage morning, noon and night, to 
‘germans,' and soirees, and the theatre. A lady 
who told mamma about it said she was the ‘ fastest' 
young girl she had ever seen, and wanted to know 
who she was, and where she came from, and said 
she had forbidden Edith Bell to invite her to her 
party. Madge Ward was left out too, and they're 
both furious. I told mamma the best I knew of 
Madge Ward, and that Bessie Shaw's family lived 
in St. Louis, and were very rich, it was reported; 
but that being in a different class at school, I knew 
very little of her; but not wishing to have any ill- 
feeling, when we all go back to the Convent, I told 
mamma that I wanted very much to invite both 
Madge and Bessie. Mamma has her own ideas 
about what she calls caste, which Jack says ‘are 
ridiculous in a free country like ours;' but then 
you know poor mamma can't help her nature, and I 
was afraid she was going to forbid the invitations; 
but she only said, if I thought there'd be any un- 
pleasantness about it at school, I might do as I 
pleased; and I did, by sending their invitations im- 
mediately. I like Madge Ward, for she's not one 
bit ashamed of the old grocery-shop around the cor- 
ner, where her grandfather and father have made 
such lots of money, and everybody says she’ll get on, 
if none of the rest of the family do so. They are 
all ashamed to see their name on the old shop-sign, 
I've heard. This world is a funny sort of a place! 
Why can't people be contented in it? It's a puzzle 
to me, and mamma says I'll understand things bet- 
ter when I get older. So if I can only get Jack to 


HESTER'S VISIT TO ANNIE SHIRLEY. 12 ? 

behave well, and if I have you, I shall be thankful. 
Oh, I forgot to tell you that mamma’s nephew, 
Egbert Gray, from Florida, is come, and is to live 
with us. He is to study medicine, and looks deli- 
cate. Jack can’t bear him, because he appears so 
languid and effeminate, and says he just wants a 
piece of black velvet round his throat to make him 
look like a girl. You must know that he has a long 
white neck, and wears his collars turned over his 
neck-tie in what they think is Byron fashion. The 
servant will bring back your answer.” 

The servant who brought the letter, as you may 
remember, did not wait for an answer, but rode off 
as soon as he delivered it at the door; and Hester 
was altogether uncertain whether she would be sent 
for or not, and quite mortified to have appeared 
rude by not sending Annie a line in return. But 
she might have saved herself all uneasiness; for 
exactly at half-past eleven she heard the sleigh- 
bells on the avenue leading to the house, before she 
saw the sleigh, and had time to lock her trunk, put 
on her things, and Nora’s wraps, before it drew up 
in front of the door. To take leave of her mother, 
and jump in with Nora amongst the soft furs, and 
draw the buffalo-robe well up to their chins, took 
but a few moments after her trunk was lifted up 
and pushed under the front seat; then they were 
off. Hester asked the driver to stop at Hillside 
Cottage long enough to leave Nora and her bundle, 
and when they got there they both jumped out and 
ran together up towards the house; but they heard 
a strange hubbub within, as of loud scolding in a 
shrill voice, which rose and fell in shrill inflections; 


128 


TWO WAYS . 


and angry words were flung loose, which were 
rapidly spoken, in a language that Hester had never 
heard kef ore, and she stood as if spell-bound. 

“ Oh, Miss! it’s the rheumatics. That’s granny! ” 
said Nora, looking frightened. 

“ I won’t go in, then, and 1 don’t like to leave 
you so,” said Hester, in doubt as to what was best 
to be done. 

“ I don’t mind, Miss, — least ways I’m used to it; 
but there’s Teddy at the window,” said Nora, 
beckoning to him to come out, which he did by the 
back way around the house. 

“What’s the matter, Teddy?” asked Hester, 
shaking hands with him. 

“Nothing much, Miss,” answered Teddy, with 
his little gruff laugh ; “ she*s most through 

now ! ” 

“It wasn’t you, Teddy dear, was it?” said Nora, 
putting her arm around his neck, and kissing him 
out of very pity at the thought. 

“No, it’s not anybody in particular!” he replied, 
with a twinkling of the eyes that meant suppressed 
mirth. 

“Poor granny! ” said Nora, her heart more easy; 
“I knew it was the rheumatiz!” 

“ It was all along of that red cloak of hers, that 
come from Ireland. You see, Miss, she sets great 
store by it, and hangs it out time and again to air. 
She hung it on the line this morning before she 
went to town, and what should the wind do but 
blow it off when nobody was thinking, and the pigs 
got after it, and dragged it round the corner of the 
house, then went to sleep on it. She missed it the 


HESTER’S VISIT TO ANNIE SHIRLEY. 129 


minute she come, and when she found it — whew! 
That's all! " 

There was a sudden lull, and a shout for Teddy, 
who hopped back on his crutches as fast as he could 

go* 

“Run, in Nora! No need of saying that I heard 
her. Run in!" 

“ But she'll ask, Miss! " 

“ Be sure and tell her then," answered Hester, 
who was highly amused by Teddy's quaint way of 
relating the incident. She jumped into the sleigh, 
and the horses instantly started. She looked 
towards the cottage before they turned into the 
county road, and saw granny; the wide, white frills 
of her cap flying back, while she shook the red cloak 
vigorously to get off the defilements of the pigs' 
feet, before she hung it again upon the line, and 
secured it, this time, with wooden clothes-pins. 

Annie Shirley was at the parlor window watching 
for the sleigh, and by the time it stopped she was at 
the hall door waiting to embrace Hester, and lead 
her in, with many warm expressions of welcome. 

“ I was so afraid you wouldn't come after all! I 
scolded Jupe like everything for not waiting, as he 
was directed; but you know darkies can't keep two 
ideas at a time in their heads, for the jife of them; 
and as mamma directed him to stop at Cranston's 
Greenhouse with an order, and not to stop a minute, 
he got one thing, you see, mixed up with another; 
brought an answer from Cranston, and none from 
you," said Annie, laughing, as she unfastened 
Hester's wraps, and laid them on the sofa. Then 
they hugged each other, and kissed each other's 


180 


TWO WAYS. 


fair cheeks, and laughed together for very light- 
heartedness. “ Come, they're all in the dining- 
room at lunch and everybody's waiting to welcome 
you. Here she is, — papa, mamma, cousin Egbert, 
this is my friend. Miss Milburn. Jack, here's — " 
But Jack, with the most amiable intention of wel- 
coming Hester, sprang up so suddenly that he upset 
his heavy chair on his mother’s pet dog, a beautiful 
white silky-coated Spitz, that one of her friends, to 
his great indignation, presented to her at Christ- 
mas; the little animal ran yelping and howling 
under the table, while he, nothing daunted, strode 
towards her, his red fist outstretched to shake 
hands. The boys, Conrad and Phil, giggled, and 
after the first hubbub of welcome began to subside, 
Hester was placed at the table between Mrs. Shirley 
and Annie. The poor little Spitz was taken away 
by the servant-man, and “ Cousin Egbert •’ offered 
to go and examine the little creature, to see if any of 
its delicate limbs were fractured; an offer which his 
aunt gratefully accepted, as he had finished his 
lunch. 

“ I couldn't help it, mother ; — that is, I did not 
mean to do it. I’m sorry for the dpg, although I 
don't approve of such pets," said Jack, who re- 
garded the Spitz as an unmitigated nuisance. 

“You'd prefer our having a dog as large as a 
young colt, like that Russian bloodhound of Count 
Baltazzer's, I suppose, my dear," observed Mrs. 
Shirley, not in the least ruffled. 

“It would be more sensible," replied the young 
philosopher ; don't you think so, Miss Milburn ? " 

“ No, I think such an animal as that more fit for 


HE STICKS VISIT TO ANNIE SHIRLEY. 131 


a menagerie than a family home. 1 like those small 
silky dogs, and think they are lovely,” replied Hes- 
ter, bravely, determined to begin with him at once. 

“Yon do?” he answered, in atone of voice ex- 
pressive of disappointment. 

After this the conversation became cheerful and 
pleasant; Cousin Egbert came back to announce 
that “Gypsy” had been more scared than hurt, 
and everybody was delighted, animated, and happy; 
even Jack came out of his glowering fit to say a word 
now and then, while the two boys had a private 
acrobatic performance at the other end of the room. 

It was a pleasant welcome the Shirleys had given 
Hester, and she felt perfectly at home. Mr. Shirley 
went away to his business; Mrs. Shirley dressed to 
go out and make calls; Colin and Phil, to the 
skating- park. Cousin Egbert, to his books and 
bones; and Jack started off on a pedestrian tour of 
three or four miles, to “put his blood in circula- 
tion.” The two girls were left alone, and had a 
long talk, after which they went out to walk, as 
Annie wanted to buy some ribbons to match a new 
silk dress. That evening several } r oung people 
dropped in, and they had music and singing, and 
two or three impromptu -dances; then Jack, who 
had been flinging around without knowing in the 
least what to do with himself, tired of the singing, 
which he declared had no soul in it, and of the 
dancing, which he thought too silly for reasonable 
people to indulge in, proposed some recitations. Rec- 
itations and dramatic readings were coming into 
fashion, and the proposition was received with 
favor. But who would read, or recite either ? No 


1 32 


TWO WAYS. 


one would venture; Cousin Egbert hid himself be- 
hind a young lady’s large Spanish fan, the other 
youths present pretended to be deeply engrossed in 
conversation with their dancing-partners, and 
Annie at last said: “Now, Jack, as you started the 
affair, you shall recite something yourself.” There 
was a soft pattering of gloved hands, and calls for 
“ Shirley.” 

“ Oh, pshaw! I don’t care!” he blurted out; “I 
might as well use my tongue that way as another. 
What’ll you have? ‘ Poe’s Raven ’ ?” 

“The Raven! the Raven!” was the answer; and 
it would have been all the same had he proposed the 
“ Three Black Crows,” it was such a novelty for 
Jack Shirley ever to give himself any trouble for 
any one’s entertainment. 

Jack was the best elocutionist of his class, and a 
great admirer of Poe’s wonderful poem. He was 
on his own ground now ; his face wore a grave look, 
that became dreamy in its expression after his utter- 
ance of the first few lines ; his gestures were few 
and natural, and his voice, ruled by the phantasm 
of the weird poem, became eloquent in its inflections 
and pathos. Even the thoughtless young folks 
present were spell-bound ; no one was more amazed 
than Annie, while Hester wondered if this could 
possibly be the awkward and surly youth of a few 
moments ago. When he finished the poem, and a 
Hurry of applause swept through the room, Jack 
Shirley seemed to come out of the depths of another 
and enchanted existence back to his own real self ; 
he looked around at the enthusiastic countenances 
crowding about him, thrust his hands down into 


HESTER'S VISIT TO ANNIE SUlliLEY. 133 

his pockets, and without a word to anybody, 
marched out of the room. 

“ I knew he'd do something odd,” whispered 
Annie ; “ isn’t he enough to provoke a saint ! ” 

“Not being one, I can't say/*' replied Hester, 
hardly knowing whether to laugh or encourage her 
friend's indignation. “ Does not your cousin 
Egbert sing ? ” 

“ If he can sing, her shall ! 99 exclaimed Annie, 
going across the room to him. “ He did sing,” he 
admitted ; and as his ambition was fired by Jack's 
successful recitation, he consented to sing “Lord 
Lovel,” which he did with such humor that every 
one was in convulsions of laughter, and he was en- 
cored, doing even better the second time than the first. 

“ Yes”' growled Jack, who heard it all from the 
library, “that stuff suits them best.” 

Then he heard a movement as if the company 
were about leaving; and, afraid that he would be 
called upon to go home with “ some silly girl,” he 
bolted up to his room, and shut himself in. 

“ I say, Annie, hold on a minute ! ” said Jack 
Shirley, suddenly appearing at the door of his 
mother's boudoir , where he had been reading all 
morning, having selected that spot because, in prep- 
aration for the party that morning, every other 
room in the house was in an unsettled state. The 
girls were going out for a walk, and to attend to 
some little commissions for Mrs. Shirley. 

“ What in the world do you want, Jack ? I 
declare you quite frighten one ! ” 

“ You and Miss Hester just come in here for a 
minute ; I have something to tell you !” 


134 


TWO WAYS. 


“Really and truly. Jack ! you’re such a tease, 1 
don’t know whether we shall come in or not ! ” said 
Annie. 

“You’ll miss something if you don’t, that’s all,” 
he replied. 

“ Do you feel any curiosity, Hester ? ” 

“ I confess that I do ! ” was the reply. 

“ Well ! here we are ! Now, Jack, make haste,” 
said Annie, as she and Hester sat down, and Jack 
closed the door. 

“ How mysterious ! ” laughed Annie. 

“Have you seen Poll to-day ?” Jack asked his 
sister. 

“No, I don’t think I have. And now I think of 
it, I did not hear her rapping at my door this morn- 
ing. Is anything the matter with her?”’ Annie 
anxiously inquired. 

“Not that I know of ; but she came near killing 
cousin Egbert last night, I can tell you,” said Jack, 
almost bursting with fun. 

“ Oh, pshaw ! What nonsense ! Did she bite 
him ?” 

“I’m going to tell you, Annie, if you’ll hush. 
Why can’t you be sensible, like Miss Milburn ! ” 

“I’m not sensible, Mr. Shirley; if I knew who 
you are talking about I should ask questions too,” 
she remarked. 

“ You’ll know, presently. I’rn only surprised 
that Annie hasn’t introduced you to our foreign 
relation, who is very entertaining, I assure you ! ” 
Hester wondered who on earth he was talking about. 

“Cousin Egbert got home from dancing attend- 
ance on those silly girls last night, with his 


HESTER'S VISIT TO ANNIE SHIRLEY. 135 


intellects in a state of exhaustion. I never saw a 
fellow work as he does to fascinate,” began Jack. 
“ When he got into his room — it’s the one. Miss 
Hester, right at the head of the hall staircase — he 
drew off his boots, shut his door, and, without light- 
ing his gas, pitched himself into his arm-chair to 
rest, while he thought over his conquests. Then he 
poked up his fire, he says, and began to build 
castles in the coals,, and watch the shadows dancing 
round the skull and a skeleton hand, upon his table. 
You know that the fellow parts his hair in the mid- 
dle, and uses perfumery, and you might be sure he*s 
given to mooning and what he calls reverie. While 
he was sitting there 4 all alone by himself/ he 
heard ' a rapping and a tapping at his chamber door/ 
and thinking it might be Sam come for his 'boots, 
he got up and opened it ; but there was no one 
there. He shut the door, and went back to his chair 
with the thought of ‘ Poe’s Raven 9 fluttering in his 
fancy, recalled by the mysterious ' tapping/ you 
know. He had hardly got seated, and well in for 
another reverie, when there came another 'rapping 
and a tapping at his chamber door/ He bounced 
up and threw it open ; but when he saw nobody 
there his blood curdled, he slammed to. his door, 
and looked above it to see if the 4 bust of Pallas 5 
was there, and where the echo of ' never more 9 
came from. Again the ghostly rap ; he rushed once 
again to his door and flung it wide open ; this time 
he heard a voice murmuring somewhere close to 
him. He thought it was ‘ Lenore ; 9 gazing wildly 
up and down and around, he saw a dusky bird glid- 
ing, with 'flirt and flutter/ about the floor, in close 


136 


TWO WAYS. 


neighborhood to his feet, and gave himself up for 
lost, when out spoke the voice sharply : ‘ Polly 

wants a cracker , ' which unravelled the mystery at 
once ; and he was so mad that he shied out his foot 
to give Poll a kick, spouting ‘ Be you bird or be 
you devil/ when she nipped his toe and held on, too, 
screeching like a Bedlamite. I had been listening 
in my room above to the unaccountable voices 
below ; but when I heard this row I rushed to the 
rescue, and, do you know, as soon as he got breath 
he turned upon me, and swore, — indeed he did ! 
‘Jack* says he, panting, ‘why didn't you tell me 
that you had that confounded parrot ? I've been 
scared nearly to death. She came rapping at my 
door like a ghost ! ' 

“ ‘ Go after Annie,' says I ; ‘she's taught Poll all 
her wicked tricks ! ' Then I asked him if I should 
fetch him a fan and some sal volatile, for as I 
informed him, he looked near fainting. 

“ ‘ Take that thing away, Jack, and stop with* 
your nonsense. I thought Poe's Raven, and all the 
rest of it, was after me.' 

“I gathered Poll to my bosom," said Jack, 
laughing until he cried, “ and lavished caresses 
upon her. I never was so glad of anything in 
my life ! I could hardly walk straight, I was so 
tickled, and put Poll upon her perch, with my bless- 
ing, and promised her a extra allowance of peanuts." 

“ You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Jack, to 
tease cousin Egbert so." 

“/ tease him? I didn't do it; it was your 
parrot and I wonder if you didn't teach her that 
trick of tapping at doors with her bill ! " 


HESTER’ 8 VISIT TO ANNIE SHIRLEY. 137 


“But you needn't crow over her about it !" said 
Hester. 

“Hi ! Come ! that's a good word ; but don't you 
go back on me, Miss Hester ; if you do I'll never 
speak to a girl again," he answered. 

“ How many hearts you will break, to be sure ! " 
was Hester's reply. The lad's face crimsoned ; the 
sparkle of fun died out of his eyes, and he said, 
speaking gravely, “I am not a conceited fellow, 
Miss Hester, whatever you may think !" 

“ Oh, no ! I did not at all mean that — I am so 
sorry ! " exclaimed Hester, thinking how mean it 
had been to snub him, after the hearty laugh he had 
given them ; but he had vanished. 

“It will do him good. Don’t mind, Hestef; but 
come, it's time we were off!" 

“I hope he won’t think I meant to be rude, — but 
I'll make friends with him at dinner. But do tell 
me," said Hester, after they had got into the street, 
“ how you taught your parrot to knock at doors in 
that human fashion?" 

“ She taught herself. She got very fond of me — 
for you must know that these birds have strong 
likes and dislikes — and of course I was glad to have 
her favor, and made much of her. She hates 
mamma's maid, and whenever she gets a chance, 
creeps about after her, and bites her heels, though 
Margaret has tried her best to be friends with her. 
She won't let her even look at her, if she can help 
it, but twirls herself round and round in her ring, 
screeching like everything, until Margaret goes out 
of sight." 

“What a strange bird! I thought, when your 


138 


TWO WAYS. 


brother first spoke of her, that he really meant a 
‘foreign relation/ and I wondered where he or she 
kept themselves!” 

“Poll, when I was home at vacation, used to 
come upstairs every morning, first thing, and rap on 
my Venetian door with her bill, — such raps that 
sometimes Pd bounce out of bed, thinking that 
mamma, or some one, was ill, and had sent for me. 
Of course she was always admitted, until I began to 
try and teach her a French phrase. For days I could 
not get her even to try to repeat the words; she’d 
only wink her eyes at me, and twirl round in her 
ring. So one morning when she came rapping, and 
expecting to get in as usual, I told her, through the 
slats *of my door, that she shouldn’t come in until 
she said: ‘Pic, pic! Qui froppe ? Ouvvez vite ; ’ 
and do you know she repeated the words as glibly as 
if she had known them all the time.” 

“Do introduce me to Mademoiselle when we get 
back!” said Hester, to whom the parrot was growing 
more and more interesting. 

“I will; but the chances are that she will speak 
to you in Portuguese, or, if she’s dejected, in Coro- 
mandel lingo. She’s an African; and grandpa, 
who, you know, is a Commodore in the Navy, 
bought her on the gold coast from a Portuguese 
sailor; and if it wasn’t for her scarlet tail and wing- 
tips, you’d mistake her for a dove, her plumage is 
such a soft, beautiful gray. But here’s the place 
we have to stop at.*” 

* This parrot belonged to the writer, and all the inci- 
dents related of her. including that of the “Raven,” are 
strictly true. 


CHAPTER IX. 


ANNIE SHIRLEY r S PARTY. 

Jack Shirley was a little sulky at dinner, but so 
remarkably polite that his mother observed it with 
pleasure, and hoped that he was going to begin to 
be like other people. The fact is, it had dawned 
upon the line young fellow's crude fancy that Hes- 
ter Milburn thought him a bear, and he intended to 
show her that he was not. “Although," as be said 
to himself, “ I'll eat my .head off before I’ll make 
such a sap of myself as cousin Egbert does.'-' The 
girls exchanged glances; but took no other notice 
until the dessert was brought on, when Hester 
asked him if he had seen some odd-looking sleds, 
with sails, upon the ice. “ We saw them this morn- 
ing, when we went to call on Edith Bell, where the 
windows command a splendid view of the river, you 
know; and they skimmed along so nicely, that I 
almost wished myself in one of them." 

Jack was reticent at first, although the right 
chord was touched, and he was longing to tell her 
all that he knew about the sleds; but he was con- 
scious of being mounted on stilts, and he thought it 
would never do to lower himself too suddenly. The 
difficulty of getting down gracefully should always 
be a consideration with people before they get upon 
stilts, which might — to their own comfort after- 


140 


TWO WAYS. 


wards — deter them altogether. Hester persevered, 
however, being determined to make friends with 
Jack, and at last, before he quite knew how it was, 
he was telling her the history of the odd-looking 
sleds, which were nothing more nor less than paper 
boats rigged out with light sails, and fixed upon 
runners, and they belonged to the College Boat 
Club. Then he gave her a spirited account of the 
first race they had, after the river froze, in their 
sailed sleds, which sped before the wind as swiftly 
as if they had been upon the water instead of on the 
ice; of the enthusiastic crowds collected along the 
shores, and how they were cheered, and how Guy 
Carlton won, and how his boat came in third best, 
and how they kept on, after the race, a mile further 
down the river, and would not have returned as 
soon as they did but for knowing that the wind 
would be dead ahead coming back, and some of 
them would have to play horse, drawing the sleds 
home. Jack was glowing with enthusiasm, and as 
oblivious of everything like false shame now as if 
he had been talking to his college chums, for his 
listener was really interested in what he was describ- 
ing, and by questions and remarks here and there, 
gave him no time to remember that he was only 
talking to a girl. 

Meanwhile, cousin Egbert was telling Mr. Shirley 
about a woman who had died just before Christmas, 
from having some sort of poison put up by mistake, 
in a prescription, at the shop of a leading druggist 
— a Mr. Preston — who was likely to get into a deal 
of trouble about it. 

“If that's so, it is the first mistake of the kind 


ANNIE SHIRLEY’S PARTY. 


141 


ever made there. Eve been dealing at Preston’s for 
years. Why, it’s absurd!” said Mr. Shirley; “no 
druggist in the United States stands higher for 
knowledge of his profession, and scrupulous cave. 
Has he been getting new clerks, did you hear?” 

“I don’t know, sir. The only chance he has, 
they say, is that the prescription is not on file, and 
that the messenger who came for the medicine was 
a young negro girl.” 

“At what date was the poison sold?” asked Mr. 
Shirley, quite excitedly. 

“I did not learn the particulars, sir. The 
poison, however, was prussic acid, which, you know, 
sir, may easily be mistaken for a drug that is per- 
fectly harmless!” And then cousin Egbert 
launched into quite a dissertation on poisons and 
their effects, to which Mr. Shirley listened with in- 
terest, his sympathy with his old acquaintance, in 
the distressing situation he was placed by some- 
body’s careless blunder, giving him a desire to get 
what information he could on a subject of which he 
was comparatively ignorant. 

“ Toxicologist!” growled Jack, who had finished 
his animated description of the sled-race just in 
time to hear about poisons, and the various ways 
they were used in adulterating foods and drinks; 
and not having heard what had led to the subject, 
he thought cousin Egbert was only venting some of 
his professional pedantry to show off to his father 
the rapid strides he was making in his studies. 
“Toxicologist! Look out for Poll, Annie!” 

“What’s that? Is it Greek?” she asked, laugh- 
ing. 


142 


TWO WAYS . 


“Look in ‘Webster’s Unabridged/ I’m not a 
dictionary,” was the curt answer. 

“You ought to carry one in your pocket, then, 
when you go to use such big words as that. Pm 
sure it’s something dreadful, for it sounds like 
Polly’s Coromandel lingo when she’s angry with 
some one; and old Joe who came from the gold 
coast, where he was born, says she is swearing then,” 
said Annie, merrily. 

“ It’s not swearing; it means — I sha’n’t tell you, 
though! How can you be so ridiculous, Annie!” 
said Jack, getting red in the face at the sudden 
thought of being made fun of, and ready on the in- 
stant to drop into the depths of awkward silence / 
and shyness; but Hester made some remark, just in ' 
time to save him, about the “ Lancers,” which Mrs/ 
Shirley had decided was to be the leading dance of 
the evening, and which Hester had promised to 
dance with him, and by the time dinner was pver 
they were the best friends in the world. 

Mrs. Shirley did not attempt a crusade against 
the round dances; but she had seen too much of 
them in society to approve of them, and she deter- 
mined that while her children were young, and 
under her control, she would not countenance them 
in her house; thus protecting, as far as lay in her 
power, the delicate bloom of their modesty and the 
innocence of their youth. Her position in society 
was so assured, that it was her privilege to lead, in- 
stead of being led; and being a Catholic, it was un- 
derstood that she also had scruples on a subject 
that was so entirely disapproved by her church. 
She was fond of seeing young people dance and en- 


Annie sitirleY’-s party . 


143 


joy themselves, and had satisfied herself that the 
more modest square dances were as much enjoyed 
by them, when the others were unattainable, as the 
round ones so much in vogue. So it was under- 
stood by all who were invited, that square dances 
would rule that evening; and, although Mrs. Shir- 
ley was called “ prude,” “stuck-up,” “affected,” 
and even a “ Pharisee,” not one regret was sent, 
and at a more than usually early hour her elegant 
rooms were thronged with groups of gay, prettily- 
dressed young girls, who were enjoying their brief 
holiday freedom to the “top of their bent,” refus- 
ing nothing that brought them together and prom- 
ised pleasure. Sprinkled among these were a num- 
ber of collegians, and several fourth class midship- 
men, who were home for the holidays, whose blue 
jackets and gold eagle buttons made them quite a 
conspicuous feature of the evening. Mrs. Shirley, 
with Annie and Hester, received the guests, and all 
“ went merry as a marriage-bell.” Bessie Shaw was 
there, radiant in pale blue silk, illusion, artfficial 
flowers, and pink coral ornaments; her hair ipiled 
up in puffs and frizzes on the top of her head as 
high as a Roman helmet, or, asHJack Shirley said, 
“a drum-major’s shako.” She looked very pretty, 
and soon attracted a circle of youths around her by 
her precocious coquetries, with whom she flirted and 
chatted to her heart’s content. She barely returned 
Hester’s salutation by a cold nod, when she entered, 
and had been doing her best, ever since she came, to 
draw Jack Shirley to her side, but he appeared deaf 
and blind to her attractions. Cousin Egbert was 
perfectly fascinated and bewildered by her; which 


144 


TWO WAYS. 


Jack thought was not at all surprising. Annie 
Shirley went up, as was her duty, to chat a little 
while with her; but she turned her back on her to 
point out a young fellow to cousin Egbert, to whom 
she wished to be introduced. Mrs. Shirley hap- 
pened to see this, and settled in her own mind that 
the young lady must certainly be innately ill-bred, 
as well as precocious in the ways of the world. She 
probably observed her more closely than she would 
have done, had she not heard her spoken of as 
“fast.” Madge Ward, in a pretty French muslin 
dress, trimmed with an abundance of Valenciennes 
lace, and insertion, and puffs, with natural flowers 
in her hair, and a simple string of pearls around her 
throat, looked very handsome, and rendered her- 
self so very attractive by her good nature and sim- 
ple unaffectedness, that Mrs. Shirley took quite a 
fancy to her, and every one wished her to dance in 
their special set, her cheerfulness was so contagious, 
and her merry talk so entirely set each one at ease 
when strangers got mixed up with them; and as her 
pleasant ways were perfectly spontaneous, without 
the least effort to attract the notice of the “ little 
men” who were present, she was by universal con- 
sent pronounced one of the belles of the occasion, 
and received very flattering attentions. 

Jack was standing in the bow-window with .Guy 
Carlton, enjoying a moment’s congenial talk about 
a skating-match that was to come off the next day, 
on the river. He did not observe that Bessie Shaw, 
surrounded by a group of young dancing fellows, 
with their hair parted in the middle, and wearing 
what Jack called “-snobbish-looking clothes,” was 


ANNIE SHIRLEY'S PARTY. 145 

just in front of him, talking to them all — laughing, 
simpering, flirting her fan, and drawing out their 
flatteries in the most approved style — until his no- 
tice was attracted by hearing Hester Milburn's 
name. “ That young lady,” said Bessie, in answer, 
evidently, to one of her satellites, “ is Miss Hester 
Milburn. What a pity she has to dress so shabbily! 
and how very stupid of the Shirleys not to have 
round dances! ” 

“Who is that girl, Jack?” asked Guy Carl- 
ton. 

“You ought to know her!” growled Jack; 
“ she's the one who got us in that row with the 
boot-blacks at Preston's corner, by kissing her hand 
to us. Any girl that would do such a thing as that 
don't mind what she says. Miss Milburn shabbily 
dressed, indeed! There she stands, Guy. Does she 
look shabby? ” 

“No,” said Guy, “she's beautiful, and modest- 
looking too. I don't know anything about girl's 
dresses; but it seems to me that hers is the prettiest 
one I see; most of the others are so furbelowed, and 
so low down on their shoulders, — whew! I don’t see 
how they keep 'em on, do yon ? ” 

“ Come, let’s get further off from that girl. I 
want to tell you about some fun we had here last 
night with cousin Egbert and our parrot,” said Jack. 
And the two, as if afraid of being “nabbed by Bes- 
sie Shaw,” as Jack elegantly expressed it, glided 
away, keeping close to the wall, behind the various 
groups of those who were watching the dancers, 
doubling here and there, and adroitly dropping into 
chairs behind people, until at last they got out of 


146 


TWO WAYS. 


the room, and out of reach of present danger. 
Their retreat equalled Captain Bunsby’s from the 
Widow Mc’Stinger! 

The evening passed oil delightfully. The house 
was large and elegant in all its appointments; there 
was nothing wanting that a refined and cultivated 
taste could suggest; and while nothing was so ob- 
trusive as to suggest price there was a singular and 
and beautiful harmony in the arrangement of every- 
thing. The supper was abundant in luxuries, but 
without wines; and the table decorated with the 
rarest flowers, and wax lights; so that all those 
healthy, happy young people feasted their eyes 
while they enjoyed with zest the good things spread 
before them. One o’clock found the house deserted, 
quiet, and its inmates not too worn out to say their 
prayers, — a thing which is more an exception than 
rule. The incidents of the evening were discussed 
in the usual way. Hester had received an abundant 
share of admiration and attention; her really beau- 
tiful face, her tall, well-formed figure, the simplic- 
ity of her toilette, and her modest sweetness of 
manner, attracted the observation of every one, and 
those who sought her acquaintance were such as 
were best worth knowing. She had frequent little 
chats with Madge Ward, and was very cordial to her, 
remembering her kindness to Nora; while Madge, 
who really did not expect to be noticed by her, be- 
came from that night forth her secret but sworn 
friend. It was impossible that a bright, intelligent 
mind like Madge Ward’s should not draw compari- 
sons between Hester and Bessie, unfavorable to the 
latter; but she kept her own counsel, and made 


ANNIE SHIRLEY’S PARTY. 


147 


some good resolutions for the future about forming 
intimacies. 

The next morning the girls arose in time to 
attend Mass at the Cathedral, and after breakfast, 
Hester, much against the persuasions of her friends, 
prepared to return home. Mr. Milburn called, in 
the midst of the discussion, to see how she was, and 
to tell her that the sleigh would be in waiting at the 
station; but when he saw how very much every one 
wished her to remain, and heard from herself such 
glowing accounts of her visit, he advised her to do 
so, unless she had some special reason to act other- 
wise; but thanking Mrs. Shirley and Annie for 
their great kindness, she said that she had promised 
her mother to return home to-day, and was afraid 
she would be disappointed if she failed to come, as 
the holidays were nearly over, and they would be 
so soon separated again. 

“ I have nothing more to say, my dear,” said Mrs. 
Shirley, approvingly, “ for I should like Annie to 
act, under the same circumstances, precisely in the 
same manner; but we are sorry to lose you, and I 
hope when the summer vacation comes, that you 
will pay us a longer visit.” 

“ Of course she will, mamma, for you know she 
graduates this year,” said Annie, who stood with 
her arm around her friend. 

“In that case I have a plan, Mr. Milburn: we 
have been invited, as the guests of the President of 
the Pacific Railroad, to go by train across the 
Plains, and we don’t intend returning until we have 
explored the Yosemite, and know, by experience 
how an earthquake feels. Now my plan is, with 


148 


TWO WAYS. 


the consent of Mrs. Milburn and yourself, to take 
Hester along, if she is willing to join us! " 

“ Oh, father! " almost gasped Hester, quite over- 
come by the grandeur of Mrs. Shirley's plan, and 
afraid — knowing as much as she did about her 
father's quiet but proud independence of character 
— that he would, throw cold water upon it; but on 
the contrary, what was her delight to hear him 
say: 

“ I thank you, madam, very much! There's noth- 
ing I should so much like for Hester, I frankly 
adtnit; and in case her mother has made no other 
plans for her, and is willing for her to undertake so 
long a journey, I accept the invitation most grate- 
fully! " 

“Oh, Hester, did you ever hear of anything so 
lovely! You and Jack can shoot buffaloes out of 
the car windows! " exclaimed Annie. 

“And Indians!" chimed in Colin, whose ideas of 
the facility for picking off an Indian now and then, 
as the train whizzed across the plains, were some- 
what chaotic. 

“I can't tell you how much I thank you, Mrs. 
Shirley," said Hester, when ready to say good-by. 
“I shall dream of that journey, and think about it 
all the time." 

“ We shall have a delightful time, I'm sure. It 
will be like going to a new world, or suddenly get- 
ting to the moon, and I think your dreams will be 
more than realized, Hester. Good-by, my dear! 
I'm glad that you and Annie are such friends. Mr. 
Milburn, Jack is going to drive the girls to the 
depot; won't you let them drop you at the office?" 


ANNIE SHIRLEY’S PARTY . 


149 


“Thanks, madam! it will save me a good half- 
hour," replied Mr. Milburn, knowing that the 
sleigh would pass with a few doors of his office. 

“Let those young folks get in, Mr. Milburn, by 
themselves, for I want just to tell you, sub rosa, 
that your daughter is a girl after my own heart; 
she’s lovely, and has won not only our esteem, but 
our affection," said Mrs. Shirley, laying her hand 
upon Mr. Milburn’s arm. 

“It is extremely gratifying, madam, to hear a 
lady of your judgment and discernment speak so 
kindly of my daughter," said Mr. Milburn, with a 
glow of pleasure in his countenance. “ Hester is a 
good girl." 

“We shall be late for the train, I’m afraid, sir!" 
called Jack from the sleigh, touching his cap 
respectfully. 

“Bless me, so we shall !" exclaimed Mr. Milburn, 
shaking hands with Mrs. Shirley. Then he sprang 
up beside Jack, and the spirited horses dashed off. 

Hester found the “ Oak Grove " sleigh, in care of 
one of the railroad employes, awaiting her at the 
station. A little anxious about Nora, she stopped 
at “ Hill-side," to see how they were all getting on. 
Granny was’, as usual, in town, attending to her 
affairs, and Mrs. Kinsella, with the two children, 
were together in the cosy sitting-room, working and 
chatting. Teddy had made some drawings from 
the book of designs, and his mother brought out a 
beautiful bracket of black walnut, decorated with 
patterns in red pine-bark, wdiich he had modelled 
from them, of fruit and flowers, which was exhibited 
with great pride. “Granny," he told her, “had 


150 


TWO WAYS. 


taken two smaller ones to market for liirn, and sold 
them for a dollar and a half a-piece, and had got 
orders for more as soon as he could finish them. I 
think, Miss, I ought to get two dollars for this, 
don’t you?” 

“ It seems to me that you should get four, Teddy, 
the way those things sell. Let me have this 
one a day or two, and see what I can do for you,” 
she replied. 

“ Yes indeed. Miss, if you will be so good,” he 
answered, his pale face flushing with pride ; “that’s 
a real pretty job, I think myself!” 

“And so it is, Teddy, darlin’,” added Mrs. Kin- 
sella. “ If you’d only seen. Miss, how knowin’ he 
set to work at all those leaves and flowers! It was 
his own thought about the pine-bark, and it 
does look uncommon nice, over the dark walnut 
wood.” 

“And the varnish and oil Mr. Milburn sent me, 
finishes everything up beautiful,” added Teddy, 
looking as happy as a king. 

“And, Miss,” put in Nora, who was almost burst- 
ing with eagerness to have her say, “ Teddy’s going 
to make one just like it for the Sisters, to set flowers 
on in the chapel! ” 

“Why, that is delightful to hear of! I am so 
glad to find you all comfortable and happy; but 
come, little girl, are you ready to come home with 
me, or do you wish to stay with your mother until 
to-morrow?” 

“I’d like to stay, if you don’t mind. Miss. I’m 
afraid Granny might think I Avas glad to get away 
without seeing her, after her knowing you heard 


ANNIE SHIRLEY’S PARTY , 


151 


the ruck she was in about the red cloak/’ Nora 
answered. 

But it was awful provokin’. Miss Hester; you 
kiiow she sets such store to that cloak, because she 
brought it from Ireland when she was a slip of a 
girl; then to come home and find it all draggled, 
with the pigs asleep upon it,” said Mrs. Kinsella, 
apologetically. 

“ Of course it was provoking. I don’t wonder at 
her scolding — the pigs — ” said Hester, laughing; 
“but good-by, — give me the bracket, Teddy, I’ll 
take the best care of it,” said Hester, rising to go. 

“We’re mighty glad to have you back, Miss! I 
hope you had a nice time! ” 

“ I had a splendid time, Mrs. Kinsella. I’ll 
come for Nora in the morning, and be sure and 
remember me to Granny,” replied Hester, as she 
jumped into the sleigh and gathered up the reins. 
“The sleighing’s most over, I’m afraid!” 

“So Granny says. Good-bye, Miss, with God’s 
blessin’ on your bright face!” The next moment 
the sleigh was skimming down the road; another, it 
had turned the curve, and Mrs. Kinsella closed the 
door with a lightened heart, for Hester always 
brought sunshine to them in one way of another. 

“ How easy it seems to make people happy! ” 
thought Hester, on her way home, while a sweet, 
warm blush overspread her face; “I have done so 
little to earn their gratitude.” 

Mrs. Milburn, on the lookout for her, heard the 
bells, and had her in her arms, pressed to her 
motherly heart, as soon as she got in the door. “ I 
knew that you’d come, my darling, though your 


152 


TWO WAYS. 


father thought you might stay a day or two long- 
er.” 

“ I knew so too, mother. They wanted me to 
make them a longer visit; but you wanted me more, 
didn’t you ? 99 she said, kissing her mother fondly, 
while her blithe voice and merry little laugh seemed 
to fill the old hall with music, as they certainly did 
Mrs. Milburn’s heart. Then Maum Betsy, and the 
youngsters from the kitchen, came trooping round 
to see “ young missis,” each one eager to do some- 
thing for her, and proud when she directed two of 
them to take her trunk to her. room, dividing her 
hat, cloak, and furs among the rest, giving the 
youngest of all, who could barely toddle up and down 
stairs, her veil and gloves, to his grinning delight. 

“’Ceitful lims ! ” chuckled Maum Betsy; “ jes 
look at ’em now, ’s if I didn’t know she’s gwine to 
pay every nigger of ’em, au’s if they don’t ’spect it ! ” 

“ Of course I have got bundles of candy things 
for ’em, and for you too, maummy !” laughed Hes- 
ter. “ Here’s your present ! ” 

Maum Betsy took the paper box that Hester 
drew out of her pocket, and opened it carefully, ex- 
pecting some jump-up contrivance inside to spring 
at her ; but what was her surprise when she saw 
glittering, on some pink cotton-wool, a pair of 
broad, gold ear-rings, with a ball of coral dangling 
from the centre of each. 

“Look yere, Missis ! Now is it any wonder the 
family’s po’ ? They’ll never larn to ’commodate 
theirselves to their circumstances,” exclaimed Maum 
Betsy, with scarcely repressed delight, as she held 
up first one hoop then the other. 


ANNIE SHIRLEY'S PARTY. 


153 


“All's not gold that glitters, maummy," said 
Hester, laughing. “ I got them," she said, to her 
mother, as they went together into the dining-room, 
“ from a dollar jewelry-shop ; but I won't take 
maummy down yet awhile, by telling her what they 
cost." 

The next morning Hester wrote a note to Mrs. 
Shirley, telling her, in brief, the history of the 
bracket, and the little artist who made it ; and sent 
it, nicely packed, for her inspection, by her father, 
when he went to town. To her great joy she re- 
ceived a reply the following evening from Mrs. 
Shirley, enclosing four dollars for the bracket, and 
an order for three more. Hester was in ecstasies ; 
and Mrs. Milburn smiled with placid satisfaction at 
Teddy's brilliant success. 

“I think, daughter," said Mr. Milburn, after 
talking over the affair, “ that you had better advise 
Teddy not to work too fast or too steadily. If he 
gets a mere money-making notion into his head, 
he'll forget art, and just run in a certain mechanical 
groove all the way through. He has a good 
draughtsman in him, I think, and he may yet do 
something successful in architecture if his genius 
is healthily developed." 

“ You always bring ballast for our fancies, dear 
padre. I shall confine Teddy to two brackets per 
month." 

“ That's right. I must leave you a little earlier 
than usual to-morrow morning, that I may finish 
a digest of a case I have on hand in time to go 
to see my old friend Preston, who's in trou- 
ble." 


154 


TWO WAYS. 


44 What is Mr. Preston in trouble about? Noth- 
ing serious, 1 hope?” said Mrs. Milburn. 

44 Fm sorry to say his difficulty’s a pretty grave 
one. A woman died a day or so before Christmas, 
of poison put into a prescription by mistake, it is 
said, at his drug-store. Fm afraid it will injure 
his business, nothwithstanding the doubts in the 
case. 

44 I never heard anything more ridiculous!” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Milburn; “Fm glad you’re going to 
see him, Edward. Remember me particularly to 
him, and don’t fail to get me some quinine, for old 
Tom has had two chills, and Henny wants calomel, 
for what she calls her 4 bilious deflections.’ She’ll 
imagine she’s going to die if she don’t get a 
4 powder ’ pretty soon.” 

44 Give my love to Mr. Preston too, father,” 
added Hester, who had known him all her life. 

Then they had music, and the evening ended as 
usual, with family worship. 

The Christmas holidays were nearly over, and 
Nora was allowed to remain with her mother until 
the day of her return to the Convent. Mrs. Mil- 
burn, with Mrs. Kinsella’s assistance in cutting out 
and sewing, had provided her with a plain, com- 
fortable outfit, altered and made up from things that 
Hester had outgrown from time to time, which 
were almost as good as new. 44 Ah, ma’am, and 
God will surely bless you for all your goodness to 
her, — you and Miss Hester. She won’t have her 
feelings hurted any more about her poor shabby 
clothes! ” 

So rosy and happy did Nora look, and so neatly 


ANNIE SlIIliLEY’S PARTY . 155 

dressed, that when Hester and herself came baq.k to 
the Convent, she was scarcely recognized as the 
same child who had left there two weeks before, 
pale and weak, from illness. Most of the boarders 
had already returned, and Sister Monica was kept 
busy at the portal all day opening it to admit those 
who lingered to the very last moment. The prompt 
return of the absentees had been accelerated by a 
play in which many of them were to take parts, that 
was to be performed at the Convent in the pres- 
ence of the parents and relatives of the pupils, 
which would let them gently down to their school 
life. 

Such accounts as these young, gay creatures 
brought from the great bustling world to the good 
Sisters, — many of whom had never seen a railroad or 
a steamboat, and who only remembered the stately, 
decorous manners that prevailed in the world before 
they entered the cloister. 

“ Why, my child,” said an old religious to Bessie 
Shaw and one or two of her friends, who were relat- 
ing their holiday experiences with great glee, “ are 
such things allowed in society now? I remember a 
time when it would have injured the prospects and 
reputations of young girls to do so.” 

“ Oh, the world had changed since then. Sister 
Bernardine,” laughed one of the thoughtless young 
things; “ girls are not kept in leading-strings now, 
I assure you. They do just exactly what they 
please! ” 

“ More’s the pity, my child, for not only now , 
but for the time to come,” replied Sister Bernardine, 
dryly, as she got up and went away to the chapel to 


156 


TWO WAYS. 


say her beads for the rising generation, who, from 
all that she could see and understand, she was cer- 
tain must be in a bad way. 

The play, — one written by Cardinal Wiseman for 
the use of Catholic schools, — as elegant in language 
as it was thrilling in incident, was quite a success; 
the acting, costumes, and the lesser details receiving 
the applause that, oil the whole, was really merited. 
This over, the pupils settled down quite contentedly 
to the usual academic routine. 

And things also resumed their quiet daily routine 
at the Milburn homestead; the piano was closed 
with a faint sigh by the gentle mother, and the 
chairs set back primly against the black, wainscoted 
walls; there was only a silent presence of the absent 
one left in her tasty handiwork of rich embroideries, 
and other devices: in the decorations of dried leaves 
and grasses, which glowed and nodded from every 
available spot in the old drawing-room, which 
would remain there untouched until her happy 
coming home, after she graduated, crowned with 
scholastic honors, should brighten up the place 
again. There was much talk evenings between Mr. 
and Mrs. Milburn about tbe overland trip to Cali- 
fornia, and it was finally decided that a little 
motherly selfishness must not stand in the way of 
the great advantages that it offered to Hester. 
This was Mrs. Milburn’s own voluntary decision 
after some days’ serious thinking and weighing mat- 
ters pro and con in her mind. And, as I must con- 
fine my narrative within certain limits, and shall 
not have space to describe this overland journey to 
California, I will anticipate events so far as to say 


ANNIE Sill BLEY’S PABTY. 


ir>7 


that it was undertaken as planned, and enjoyed by 
the party, including Hester, beyond their most 
sanguine expectations, not even missing an earth- 
quake, which frightened them nearly out of their 
senses. 


CHAPTER X. 


GATHERING CLOUDS. 

All the pupils were now in, and everything re- 
sumed its usual routine at the Georges Street Con- 
vent, as if Christmas, like something precious 
dropped into a clear lake, had not sent a thousand 
ripples shimmering and dancing towards the waiting 
hearts that had longed with such bright expectancy 
for its coming. Sister Therese, the Directress, had 
never felt better satisfied after a holiday than now, 
for not only had the pupils returned more promptly 
than usual, but they really set to their various 
studies, as with a determination to do their best. 
I should not, however, be giving you a true delinea- 
tion of life if I did not add that among these young 
creatures there were some exceptions to this, and also 
to the moral animus, which, not yet appearing 
above the surface, did not disturb the innocent 
happiness and delightful tranquillity that pre- 
vailed. 

Nora Kinsella was an object of general interest, 
owing to her singular adventure, its serious conse- 
quences, and the transformation which benevolence 
and affection had wrought in her appearance. 

“ She was a perfect little clodhopper when she 
first came!” said one of a group of girls at recess, 
as Nora went dancing past. 


GATHERING CLOUDS. 


159 


“No one looks nicer now, or is better dressed,” 
answered another. 

“ Hester Milburn did it all,” chimed in a third. 

“ Of course Hester Milburn did ; I doubt if any 
of us would have known how — even had we wished 
it-r— to be kind to the poor little friendless thing,” 
spoke out Madge Ward, with her usual frankness. 

And so Hester’s kindness to Nora was commented 
on by one and another ; and even those of the girls 
who were too proud, too selfish, or too indolent to 
have troubled themselves to be kind to a “poor 
little low Irish girl,” admired and felt a secret 
respect for those good qualities in her character 
which they did not possess or cultivate themselves. 
Bessie Shaw and her satellites — now dwindled down 
to only two or three, who were in her confidence, 
although she still had admirers enough among her 
companions — were not pleased, of course, to see her 
rival mounted, by general consent and approval, on 
a pedestal so far above herself and them. Added to 
this, was the girl’s mean envy and jealousy of Hes- 
ter’s intimacy with the Shirleys, and the fact that 
while Jack Shirley had behaved like a bear to her- 
self, his conduct had been that of a brother to her 
rival. She chose, also, to imagine that Hester 
“ put on airs ” to her, when in truth, the airs were 
all on her own side. And so she went on feeding 
her silly fancies, until she really felt herself to be 
quite injured by Hester Milburn, and determined 
to revenge herself upon her in a way that would 
“ take the conceit out of her,” and to make use, if 
she could possibly manage it, of Nora Kinsella as 
the instrument of her friend’s disgrace. To this 


160 


TWO WAYS. 


end, and to the astonishment of every one, she be- 
gan to take much notice of Nora ; gave her bon-bons 
every day ; laughed and chatted with her sometimes 
when she met her in the play-room, or in their 
walks to the “farm,” which belonged to the en- 
closure of the Georges Street Convent, where the 
pupils, attended by two or three of the school 
Sisters, were obliged to go every fine day for exer- 
cise; for at this institution the physical improve- 
ment entered into the- system of education equally 
with the intellectual, and the good result was as fine, 
healthy-looking a set of young people as could be 
found anywhere. 

The brick wall that defined the Convent boun- 
daries was eight feet high, and divided its grounds 
from those of the college, the buildings of which 
lay some half mile away towards the river. I men- 
tion this particularly on account of an interdict 
which had been laid upon the Convent girls not to 
approach that wall under any circumstances what- 
ever, a contraband correspondence having been once 
or twice detected between the pupils of the two 
institutions several years previous. The threatened 
penalties for a breach of this rule were very severe; 
the Sisters were vigilant, and nothing of the sort 
had happened since. 

One day — one of those bright, balmy days that 
suddenly drop upon us sometimes in the very midst 
of our winters — a visiting Bishop arrived, and, as 
usual, the girls asked a holiday, which, by his re- 
quest, they got, and they were directed to go to the 
“farm” and amuse themselves, — Sister Agnese, 
and two other of the Academy Sisters, in atten- 


Gathering clouds. 


161 


dance. Hester Milburn begged Sister Therese's 
permission to take an hour's practice on the harp 
before she left, and went away immediately to the 
music hall, and heard through the open windows 
the merry, happy voices of the girls as they trooped 
along through the grounds. Bessie Shaw and her 
intimates, were, as usual, together, and had never 
been more merry. Nora, with some of the younger 
children, pranced about with delight, and Annie 
Shirley and Madge Ward sauntered along, chatting 
about the coming examinations, and laughing, now 
and then, at Nora's funny pranks. 

Bessie Shaw got possession of the swing, and 
presently told the girls who were waiting for her lead, 
as usual, that they needn't stay, for she felt tired, 
somehow, and was going to sit awhile longer in the 
swing. There was a race going on between the first 
and second class, down the broad avenue, which was 
apparently quite exciting, and they were ready 
enough to go, so she was left alone on the watch for 
Nora. At last she caught a glimpse of her; and as 
Nora happened to be running towards her, she saw 
her in the swing, beckoning her to come to her. 

“Did you want me, Miss?" asked Nora, running 
to her. 

“ Yes. Don't you want to swing?" 

“Yes, Miss, that is if you don't." 

“ Here, bounce in, — I'll give you ten! " 

No sooner said than done; in another instant 
Nora was flying to and fro through the air, scream- 
ing with delight. 

“Come, that's enough! Jump out, now, and let 
me get back again. I had no idea you were so 


162 


TWO WAYS. 


heavy. Here’s some chocolates, — do you like 
them?” said Bessie, taking her seat once more in 
the swing. 

“Indeed and I do. Miss; I love ’em dearly,” re T 
plied Nora, receiving a handful. “Thank you! 
thank you! What nice big ones they are.” 

“How’s Teddy? ” 

“ Oh, he’s so well now. Miss, you can’t think. 
He has learnt how to make such pretty things to 
sell — brackets, they call them — and some ladies in 
the city buy them.” 

“I saw one of them that Mrs. Ward bought. 
What an ingenious little hop-toad he is!” 

“I don’t know what that word means, Miss,” 
said Nora, flushing up and hesitating; for if she did 
not understand the meaning of ‘ ingenious,’ she 
knew well enough what a hop-toad was, but she 
thought Miss Bessie did not intend any harm; how 
could she, after being so kind to her? “Mr. Mil- 
burn says Teddy’s a genius, if that’s all the same !” 

“ Is he older than you?” 

“Yes, Miss, but his back bone is humped out, 
and he’s lame, you know, which makes him littler 
than me,” answered Nora, in a softened voice. 

“How dreadful !” replied Bessie Shaw, who had 
heard all about Teddy before from Madge Ward; 
“does he hop about like a frog?’ 

The girl’s malicious nature would crop out, even 
when she did not quite intend it. 

“No, Miss,” said Nora, lifting her honest gray 
eyes, and looking Bessie Shaw squarely in the face, 
in a manner that made her blush; “ Teddy does not 
hop, he walks with crutches.” 


GATHERING CLOUDS. 


163 


“ Oh — 1 didn't know! I'm very tired, Nora. 1 
hate to move to-day." 

“Are yon sick. Miss Bessie?" 

“Oh, my! where's my letter?" she exclaimed, 
fumbling in her pocket; “I do believe that's it 
lying over there by the wall! I suppose I dropped 
it, and the wind blew it. there. Do, Nora, run and 
get it for me!" 

“To be sure I will, Miss!" replied the good- 
natured child, rushing towards the wall in igno- 
rance of the rules to the contrary. She had never 
been there before, because she noticed that the girls 
all kept away at a certain distance from it. 

In less time than I have taken to tell you, she 
made the distance, picked up the letter, and placed 
it in Bessie Shaw's hands. Only intent on serving 
her, she did not look at the address, or she would 
have seen a name that would have made her stop 
before she gave it up. 

“Thank you, Nora, you're an obliging little 
thing! You'd better go and play, now; I think I’ll 
walk about, too," said Bessie, thrusting the letter 
into her pocket. 

Nora had nbt observed the address on the letter 
when she went to pick it up from under the wall, so 
there was nothing said, and she forgot all about it, 
until just before bed-time, Bessie Shaw, watching 
an opportunity, beckoned her aside, out of the light, 
and said: “That was not my letter, after all, Nora, 
it was for Miss Milburn; put it right into your 
pocket — here it is — and be sure and don't let any 
one see you give it to her, or it might get her into 
trouble. If she asks you where you got it, don't men- 


104 


TWO WAYS. 


tion my name, for we don’t speak; but just tell her 
you picked it up at the ‘farm/ which is the truth.” 

“I will, Miss/’ answered Nora, her loyal heart 
only intent on serving Hester, and thinking no 
harm, so plausibly did Bessie Shaw make everything 
appear to her simple understanding. There is 
nothing surer, than that it is the most truthful 
natures which are most easily imposed upon. 

Nora hunted in every direction for Hester, and at 
last found her in the gallery leading to the chapel, 
where she had been to say her Rosary mysteries. 
“Oh, Miss Hester! I’ve been looking for you all 
round! Here’s a letter for you!” said Nora, out of 
breath, as she gave her friend the letter. 

“A letter for me! I’m very glad to get it,” she 
replied, thinking that it was from home, and that 
one of the Sisters had given it to Nora to bring to 
her; “ I’ll wait till I get into my alcove to read and 
enjoy it, for I know it’s from my dear padre , who 
always sends me a good laugh in his letters.” She 
dropped the letter into her pocket. An hour later, 
before the gas in the dormitory was lowered, and 
the curtains of the alcove were still closed, Hester 
opened her letter, thinking how much she was going 
to enjoy it; but imagine her amazement when she 
saw a handwriting that she did not know, and read 
the following: 

“Dear Miss: 

“ I got your letter all safe, and stayed from base ball to 
answer it, though I’m not much of a hand to write to young 
ladies. It makes me very happy to think you care for me. 
Please write again very soon. 

“ Ever yours, Miss, 

“ J. S.” 


G A Til ERIN G CL O UD> S'. 


165 


The blood surged up into Hester's face. Who 
could have dared write to her in that way ? Her 
first impulse was to go to the Directress with it ; 
but she remembered that it was against the rules to 
leave the dormitory after retiring. She felt angry 
and frightened ! Some one evidently wished to get 
her into trouble. She lifted the curtain between 
her alcove and Nora’s to ask her where she got the 
letter and when, but Nora was sound asleep ; and 
although she was in great perplexity, which she 
perhaps might have relieved, she would not waken 
her. She saw that there was nothing to be done but 
to wait until morning, and she sat on the side of her 
cot thinking and thinking it over until her head 
was in a whirl, and the light was extinguished. 
She prepared for bed quietly, and, after saying her 
prayers, she lay down, but not to sleep. “To pre- 
tend that I have written to him ! Oh, who could 
have done such a wicked, dishonorable thing ? I’m 
sure it won’t stop here ! If I thought it would, I 
wouldn’t mind so much. Oh dear ! what shall I 
do ?” She did not know, and she did the very best 
thing that could have been done : she said a fervent 
“Hail Mary,” for help, in this her hour of dis- 
tress. Presently it occurred to her, for the first 
time, that perhaps one of the girls, out of a pure 
spirit of mischief, had done it to tease her, and 
the idea gained upon her the more she thought 
of it. 

“I’ll ask Nora about i‘t first thing in the morn- 
ing. I’m afraid I’ve tormented myself foolishly 
about this thing ; but I’m glad that no one knows 
except Him who sees my heart,” thought Hester, as 


166 


TWO WAYS. 


she laid her head upon her pillow, and tried to go to 
sleep. 

“ Fll find out from Nora,” was her last thought, 
“and if she can’t clear it up I shall know it's a 
joke, and will take no further notice of it.” Then 
Hester went off into dreamland, where pleasanter 
fancies awaited her. 

While dressing in the early morning twilight, 
Nora went into Hester’s alcove to get her dress but- 
toned. “ Are you quite awake, Nora ?” 

“Yes, Miss; look at my eyes!” she answered, 
turning her bright, wide-awake eyes full on Hester’s 
face. 

“ I believe you are. Now tell me, Nora, where 
you got that letter which you gave me last night.” 

“ I found it by the stone wall, Miss,” replied 
Nora, not exactly as instructed, and thinking no 
harm; but she had been told to speak more gener- 
ally when questioned. 

Then Hester thought it must have been tossed 
there by one of the college boys; but what could 
she do, if it had? How did she know who “ J. S.” 
was? Could Jack Shirley have presumed to insult 
her in this way? or had any one been writing to him 
in her name? The very thought of such a thing 
made her sick and faint. “ I am innocent, entirely 
so,” she thought, at last, “and I’ll wait. If there’s 
any more of it, I’ll go to Sister Therese with it.” 

Ah, Hester, why not at once? Perhaps God per- 
mits us to make errors of judgment sometimes to 
show us that we are weak, and how vain it is to be 
puffed up by a consciousness of our own excellence. 
Hester Milburn was not puffed up, she was pos- 


GATHERING CLOUDS. 


167 


sessed of a true humility; but she made a great mis- 
take in not laying this affair, at the very earliest 
opportunity, before the Directress. 

“ Did you not know that it is against the rules, 
Nora, to go near that wall? ” she asked the child. 

‘t Indeed I didn’t, Miss; if I had, I wouldn’t have 
gone there for a letter from even my own mammy,” 
she answered, so frankly that Hester could not 
doubt her. 

“ It is against the rules; and should you do it 
again you would be sent home, if it were known,” 
she said gravely. “ Don’t go there again, or on any 
account meddle with anything you may see lying 
• there.” 

“ I promise you, Miss, and Dm sorry for breaking 
the rules,” said Nora, in low tones, that sounded as 
if they trembled through tears. She saw that her 
best and kindest friend was pained, and, but for the 
kindness of her manner, she would have thought 
she was displeased with'her; besides this, she knew 
that she had not told the whole truth about the let- 
ter; but then, had she not promised Bessie Shaw 
not to mention her name? And so her honest little 
heart was confused by a false principle, which cor- 
rupted the half truthful statement that she gave, 
all unconscious of wrong. 

There is no form of lying more wicked or mali- 
cious than that which runs like a thread through 
the web and warp of truth, because, supported by 
apparent facts , it has a more damaging influence. 
Kemember, lads and lasses, that the plain unvar- 
nished truth is to be spoken at all hazards; a prom- 
ise not to do so should never bind you from speaking 


168 


TWO WAYS. 


out honestly. I don’t like tale-bearing, or tattling; 
both are mean, mischief-making, and show a cow- 
ardly spirit; but there are several reasons why the 
Truth should be uttered fearlessly, and at every 
risk, especially when the innocent are compromised 
by the guilty. • 

First of all. God sees, and He abominates a 
lie. 

Second. A lie is a miserable, wicked, and cow- 
ardly subterfuge for some base or mean purpose, 
and degrades him who utters it. A lie is, generally 
speaking, a calumny, and there were never truer 
words written than: “ He who steals my purse, 
steals trash; but he who steals my good name, leaves 
me poor indeed.” Lying, then, is not only stealing, 
but it is too often murder; for the stab given to 
one’s reputation by it, not unfrequently results in 
the death of its victim. 

Third. A lie is mean and cowardly, and sooner or 
later comes to light, bringing confusion and loss of 
credit to the evil heart that speaks and promulgates 
it; so that you see self-interest, if no higher motive, 
should restrain all inclinations to the utterance of 
untruth. And even, if by owning up to things you 
suffer something quite severe, that is nothing to 
going about with the canker-spot of a lie upon 
your conscience, feeling that you may be found out 
at any moment. A lie is a bad skeleton to be walk- 
ing the earth with. 

I have read of men who deemed it a very heroic 
and praiseworthy thing to bear patiently, in their 
own person and reputation, to be suspected of crimes 
committed by a friend. This is a favorite climax 


GATHERING CLOUDS. 


169 


of fiction; but it is a false principle, the heroism 
spurious, and the act of the “earth, earthy.” I 
can understand the grandeur of a man’s dying for 
friends or brethren; but not a willingness to immo- 
late his honor by assuming a guilt of which he is 
entirely innocent. So hold up your heads bravely, 
young friends; if you have done wrong, be coura- 
geous to face the consequences; if you are threatened 
with the penalties of the ill deeds of another, who 
shelters himself behind your fair character, there’s 
no rhyme or reason why you should not throw the 
foul thing where it belongs. We owe all, first, to 
God, then to our own fair fame. 

This is a long dissertation; and if you have 
“ skipped ” over it to get at the story, you’d better 
turn back and read it, as you may have need, one of 
these days, of just such counsel, when there’ll be 
no friend at hand to give it. 

One day, one of the laborers at the “Farm” 
picked up a letter near the stone wall within the in- 
terdicted precincts, and went with it to Sister Veron- 
ica, whom he had just seen go into the dairy, as he 
passed by it; and thinking that one of the young 
misses had dropped it there by accident, he very 
considerately gave it to her. The letter was directed 
to Miss Hester Milburn! The man was an old ser- 
vant, who had come to the institution as gardener 
nearly fifty years before, and felt himself to be part 
and parcel of it; having seen two generations of 
nuns pass away from the penitential cross-bearing life 
of the cloister to the reward given them by promise, 
to “ follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth.” 
His name was Patrick Coony; and by virtue of his 


170 


TWO WAYS. 


age, and long services, he was in the habit of speak- 
ing his mind freely when occasion offered. 

Sister Veronica laid down the skimmer that she 
was just about to dip into a crock of cream, took 
the letter, and read the address, while a grave ex- 
pression came over'her countenance. 

“ Who gave you this, Patrick? ” she asked. 

“ Nobody. I picked it up off the grass, sure.” 

“Whereabouts?” 

“Beyant there by the wall, since you push me to 
tell it. They be at their ould tricks agin, an* 
what's the use o’ bein' hard on 'em, Sister avour- 
neen! Young people will be young people, an' 
there's no use expectin’ to make priests and nuns 
out of 'em,” said Patrick, in his most ingratiating 
manner. 

“We don't expect that, Patrick; but you know 
that it's against the rules to have notes coming to 
the young creatures who are under our care, in this 
way. If there’s any more of this, take the letters 
directly to Sister Therese.” 

“Faith an’ I will. I niver go agin the rules even 
whin they go agin the grain. But it's a pity for 
the young craythurs to be crossed, says I. I re- 
mimber my own young days on the shores of the 
Shannon, whin my purty Bridget — God rest her 
sowl! — used to be at the cabin dure a watchin’ for 
me to come by from my work, an' toss me a kiss, 
sure, or a bit of a flower, unbeseen by her cross ould 
mammy, that wanted her to marry one o' them rini- 
gade bailiffs that was bought over wid English gould 
to betray his countrymen; but I got her, spite of 
all their circumnavigations an' tricks, bedad, an' we 


GATHERING CLOURS. 


171 


wint south, where I got work; hut my poor Bridget, 
asthore! she an* her baby jist laid down an* died 
one day, as suddint, it seemed to me, as if they had 
gone to sleep after a day’s harvestin’. The Saints 
make their bed aisy in heaven! Then I laid ’em in 
holy ground in St. Columkill’s ruined abbey, an’ 
come away to Ameriky.” 

Sister Veronica’s tendef heart was touched, and 
Patrick’s old eyes were twinkling with tears which 
he did not care to have seen; so he stuck his cutty- 
pipe into his mouth again, and turned away, send- 
ing puffs of tobacco-smoke over his shoulder as he 
tramped off in the direction of his celery-beds. 

Hester Milburn was so absorbed in her various 
studies to the end of graduating with the highest 
honors of the academy, if possible, in every branch, 
that she forgot all about the foolish letter, which 
she had settled, in her own mind, that one of the 
girls had out of mischief written and contrived to 
send her, and it lay crumpled up in the bottom of 
her pocket, where she had thrust it, in her anger, 
the night Nora gave it to her. With a clear con- 
science, and bearing ill-will to none, she pursued 
the even tenor of her way, only intent on under- 
standing, as well as committing to memory, her 
studies. She had been aiming all along for the gold 
medal, a signal and exceptional reward bestowed at 
the Georges Street Academy, for the highest excel- 
lence, intellectual and moral, and there had been 
small doubt but that she would win it; for it was 
known to every one except herself, that she had not 
received a single demerit this year; she only hoped 
that she had done nothing to earn one. She was 


172 


TWO WAYS. 


too busy to observe an almost imperceptible change 
in the maimer of the Sister Directress, with whom 
she had always been a great favorite, towards her. 
Sister Agnese also appeared cold and reserved, and 
Hester had once or twice been surprised by observ- 
ing her eyes fixed upon her with a sad, questioning 
expression. Nor had she time to observe that Bes- 
sie Shaw was having everything her own way among 
the girls; that she was more boastful than ever of 
the “ exclusiveness of her family, and the splendors 
of her home,” and of what she intended doing in 
the way of dash and enjoyment when she got back 
to St. Louis. It is a pity, but there’s nothing more 
true than that this sort of thing has its influence 
over young, inexperienced minds, who mistake the 
glitter of tinsel for pure gold, and, like moths at- 
tracted by the. glare of a flame, flutter closer and 
closer around the object of their admiration, think- 
ing it a luminary of the first order, until the wings 
of their fancy get singed, and their illusions dis- 
pelled; and so, with pain, they receive their first 
lesson of distrust in others , — an experience always 
sad, and too often leaving a sting which embitters 
all future intercourse with our fellow beings. This 
girl had a way of brow-beating those she did not 
like in so audacious and offensive a way, that her 
clique, and others not of it, dreaded offending or 
opposing her in anything, knowing but too well 
what a disagreeable position she would immediately 
place them in, if they had the temerity to venture 
on any such course. 

Nora Kinsella was out of favor again, and got fre- 
quent snubs from Bessie Shaw, not unaccompanied 


GATHERING CLOUDS. 


m 


with severe threats, if she dared mention her name 
in connection with that letter she had made her 
pick up and convey to Hester Milburn, because the 
stout-hearted little girl had positively refused to go 
and fetch her another from the same spot. 

“ Why won’t you, you little Irish baggage?” she 
asked, angrily. 

“ Because it’s against the rules; and I wouldn’t 
have picked up the other, if I had known that.” 

“What did you do with it?” asked Bessie Shaw, 
in slight alarm. 

“What you told me to. I gave it to Miss Hes- 
ter, and she told me I mustn’t fetch her any more, 
or go near the wall again, for it was against the 
rules; so there! ” 

“What a sly puss she is! You’d better go and 
get me that letter, if you know what’s best for you, 
you little minx! ” 

. “I won’t! I won’t, not if you beat me for not 
going. Go yourself! ” 

“Bessie! Bessie Shaw! ’’cried Madge Ward, rush- 
ing up in a glow of excitement, “what do you 
think? Oh, I’m out of breath!” 

“Clear out, Paddy! ’’said Bessie Shaw to Nora, 
who gladly obeyed. “ Now what in the world’s the 
matter with you? Has any one eloped?” 

“Why are you always thinking of such things, 
Bessie? No, — no one has eloped.” 

“Well, I didn’t know,” said Bessie, adroitly put- 
ting her arm through Madge Ward’s to lead her 
away from the spot. “ I hear that letters have 
been passing to and fro over the wall again! 
There’ll be a big fuss soon. Let’s sit down here on 


174 


TWO WAYS. 


this bench, and don’t stand gaping like a sick 
chicken! ” 

“Oh, my! Who told you?” 

“I found it out by accident; and you’ll all find 
out that the girl who has set herself up above the 
rest of us, and fooled the nuns into believing that 
she’s a piece of perfection, is no better than the rest 
of us, or as good either.” 

“ Who do you mean, Bessie? Not Hester Mil- 
burn, surely!” 

“She, and nobody else,” answered Bessie Shaw, 
snapping her white, even teeth together. 

“I don’t believe one word of it!” 

“ I’m sorry, Miss Ward, that you think I’d tell a 
falsehood! ” 

“Oh, no! I don’t think that, Bessie; I only 
meant that I don’t believe the story, and that some 
one must have deceived you.” 

“Perhaps so; but don’t breathe a word about 
having heard it from me.” 

“I shall not speak of it at all. I like Hester 
Milburn, and think she’s a perfect lady. Why, 
she goes to Communion so often, and is head of the 
Sodality too! Pshaw! it’s ridiculous to think of it. 
Let’s talk about something else.” 

Bessie could not afford to affront so rich a girl, as 
Madge Ward, so she swallowed her resentment, 
although she would have desired nothing better 
than to have shown her some impertinence, and 
asked her what news it was that she was so full of 
when she came up. 

“Oh! I’d forgotten. There’s a new girl coming, 
and she’s from St. Louis!” 


GATHERING CLOUDS . 175 

“Who told you? ” asked Bessie, with sudden in- 
terest. 

“Oh, I happened to be in the work-room when 
Sister Veronica was unpacking her trunks. I never 
saw such elegant things in my life ! 99 

“Much good they'll do her, to be sure, packed 
away in the trunk-room up in the garret! It's 
shameful not to let us wear our nice things. But 
what’s her name?” 

“I did not ask; but I saw the name of Henrietta 
de Conti on her trunk.” 

“Oh, yes! my mother knows Madame de Conti 
very well; they belong to the old French elite of St. 
Louis, and it’s the hardest thing in the world to get 
into their set,” replied Bessie Shaw, with a deep- 
ened color in her cheeks; “it’s strange, though, 
that she should come at this season of the year! ” 

“ I thought so too, and asked Sister Agnese about, 
it, and she told me that Madame de Conti had been 
ordered to the South of France for her health, and 
had placed her daughter here under the care of Sis- 
ter Therese, who is an old friend of hers, until her 
return. I do hope she’s nice! ” 

“ Of course she’s nice. How could she help it, 
seeing that she belongs to such a high family, and 
is so rich? You’ll see what’s what when she comes. 
I’ll promise you. She’ll put Hester Milburn in her 
place, and I’m glad of it! ” 

“I think she’s in her place already,” said Madge 
Ward, dryly. 

“I’m sorry to differ with you,” replied Bessie 
Shaw, humming an air from “ La Favonra.” 

But notwithstanding her affected indifference. 


m 


TWO WAYS. 


Bessie Shaw was very quiet all the rest of the day — 
not only quiet, but peevish — and intimated to her 
friends a wish that they’d go away and leave her to 
herself, which they did, wondering what in the 
world could be the matter with her. 


CHAPTER IX. 


PHOSPHORUS. 

Two or three days passed, and yet the new pupil 
from St. Louis had neither made her appearance in 
class, play-room, or chapel, a delay which, instead 
of abating the high-strung curiosity concerning her, 
rather inflamed it. It was supposed by some that 
she was to be a parlor boarder; one suggested that 
not having shown herself at Mass, she must be a 
Prostestant; then another reported having caught a 
glimpse of a tall, showy girl in an elegant del blue 
silk, with “locks and chains, and things about,” 
glittering on wrists, ears, and throat, with Sister 
Therese, in the music-room, as she was hurrying by 
to her French recitations, who could be no other 
than Mademoiselle de Conti. Bessie Shaw assumed 
to know a great deal about her, although she was 
very careful not to commit herself except on the 
subject of the stranger's elegant outfit, on which 
she could safely expatiate, having heard a descrip- 
tion of it from Madge Ward, who had seen it; but 
this latter she wisely kept to herself, that it might 
seem as if she had a more intimate knowledge of her 
affairs than any one else. She got a letter from her 
mother about this time, who — she told her intimates 
— had just come from taking leave of Madame 
Conti, who had requested her to ask her daughter 


178 


TWO WAYS. 


to become the friend of Ilenriette, from whom she 
had never been separated before. It did not enter 
into any one’s mind to doubt this, for what could 
have appeared more natural? but it increased 
Bessie Shaw’s importance amazingly. 

What with the sensation created by the arrival of 
the French heiress, and the nameless, noiseless, 
floating whispers that were in the air about her, 
none of which had yet reached her ears, Hester 
Milburn was no longer looked up to as the first 
young lady of the Academy, a position accorded her 
as head of the Senior Class; coldness, averted and 
sometimes impudent looks greeted her on all sides, 
when she had time to notice how things were going 
on around her, and it was all so singularly unlike 
her previous school experiences, that it quite puz- 
zled her. She had never been intimate or familiar 
with any, until she knew Annie Shirley, yet every 
one had always been kind, and her notice or atten- 
tion had always been accepted as something to be 
coveted, which made this strange avoidance the 
more marked. She examined herself closely, to 
see if she could remember having inadvertently 
or otherwise given her companions cause of 
offence; but there was nothing she could re- 
proach herself with, — not the slightest act! She 
could not in the least understand the new state of 
affairs, and although it annoyed and pained her, 
she determined to be patient and silent, after the 
example of the Holy Mother of Jesus; to pray 
oftener, and with more fervor, until something 
tangible should appear which would give her the 
key to it all. She knew how fickle the school-girl 


PHOSPHORUS. 


179 


fancy is, and how easily dazzled, and tried to think 
that the new star risen upon them had thrown her 
into the background; in which case she would give 
herself no further concern about it, for she had her 
hands and head both full of the studies that she 
must excel in, or lose the gold medal. Annie 
Shirley and Nora showed no change, except that of 
a closer affection, and Madge Ward, with light- 
hearted words and laughter, and friendly manner, 
often waylaid her on her way to and from classes, 
holding her as long as she might, until smiles came 
to brighten Hester’s pale, fair face, and a gleam of 
mirth sparkled in her eyes. Madge Ward did not 
select corners or times when she was alone for these 
effusions, but had courage to show them all what 
she thought of Hester Milburn, and how little she 
cared for their opinion, or their forbidding looks, 
like the dear, independent girl she was. 

One evening, while the girls were enjoying them- 
selves each in her own way, in the great, well- 
lighted, pleasantly-warm play-room, after study 
hours. Sister Agnese came in with a small, delicate 
looking girl by the hand, who had fair hair and 
brown eyes, and was simply dressed in brown 
merino, like themselves, plain linen collar and cuffs, 
and without a scrap of jewelry about her, except a 
plain gold breastpin, more for use than ornament 
and small jet hoops in her ears. Sister Agnese 
beckoned to Annie Shirley, and introduced her as 
Henriette de Conti! The whisper flew from one to 
another who the stranger was, and nothing could 
equal their astonishment in seeing that she was 
exactly the reverse of all their preconceived ideas! 


180 


TWO WAYS. 


Instead of a self-assertive, haughty manner, this 
young girl was modest and timid; but by her quiet, 
well-bred manner, evidently accustomed to good 
society in the best sense of the term. Hester Mil- 
burn came in shortly after in search of Nora, for 
whom she had a letter from Teddy that had come 
in one for herself from home; and, to Bessie Shaw's 
intense disgust, she saw Annie Shirley lead Henri- 
ette de Conti towards her as she advanced, then 
introduce them to each other. 

“Why don’t you go speak to her?" said Ada 
Gray, giving her friend a nudge of the elbow. 

“ I'm sure you should do so, Bessie, seeing that 
she's from St. Louis, and your mother so intimate 
with hers," observed Madge Ward. 

“Don't meddle with me, if you please! Do you 
suppose I would go speak to her in such company as 
that? "she answered, tossing her head, yet secretly 
chagrined, and half suspecting that Madge Ward 
had found out something, which, however, she had 
not. 

“ Do as you please; I want to speak to Hester 
Milburn, and I hope that I shall get an introduction," 
said Madge Ward, to whom Annie Shirley had just 
given a little nod of invitation to join them. 

Bessie Shaw’s mortification was extreme. Why 
had not Sister Agnese, who knew that Henriette de 
Conti and herself were both from St. Louis, intro- 
duce her instead of Annie Shirley? And there she 
was, surrounded by her set, who were all watching 
to see how it was going to be, while she, angry and 
spiteful, was longing to make the acquaintance of 
Henriette, and become intimate with her, to estab- 


PHOSPHORUS. 


181 


lish her pretensions as belonging to the dlitv of St. 
Louis. 

Meaning only kindness to the stranger, Annie 
Shirley mentioned to her that there was “another 
young lady from St. Louis at the Academy, — per- 
haps you know her, though — her name is Bessie 
Shaw/’ 

“Bessie Shaw, you say! No! Ido not think I 
ever heard the name before/’ she answered, speak- 
ing very gently, and with an accent that was quite 
interesting. Then the subject was dropped, and 
soon after the Refectory bell rang, and Annie 
Shirley was delighted when they got to the table to 
find that her new acquaintance was the vis-a-vis of 
Hester and herself. 

Although Bessie Shaw got acquainted with Hen- 
riette de Conti, and proffered her friendship and 
good offices, using, at the same time, her most irre- 
sistible fascinations to make an agreeable impres- 
sion upon her, she never got beyond a certain point 
with the gentle girl; not from pride on her part, 
but from a natural reserve of character, and an 
observation of the fact that her two friends were 
not intimate with her. There was also a certain 
something about Bessie Shaw that she intuitively 
shrank from, even after she had told her that their 
mothers were intimate friends. 

“I do not see all my mamma’s friends. She 
sometimes send for me, to introduce; but not often 
when they come to see her. Does your mamma live 
in St. Louis?” 

“ Oh, yes, in the square above your house?” 

“ Pardonnez moi! Is not that the park?” 


182 


TWO WAYS. 


“ On the other side! Oh, yes, that's the park / 5 
said Bessie, coloring up. 

“ Excuse me. I do not 'speak very fast English, 
I believe, and make mistakes. Ah ! there is Mees 
Sirley,” she exclaimed, smiling, and nodding to 
Annie Shirley, who had been helping her over the 
difficulties of English grammar, and was looking 
around for her. 

Hester Milburn had recently overheard remarks 
evidently intended for her ear, made by groups of 
girls, sometimes in the play-room, once or twice on 
the “ long porch,” and out in the grounds as she 
passed them. Once it was something about an 
“intercepted correspondence;” again, she caught 
the words “ intimacy with Annie Shirley,” “inter- 
ested motives,” “prospective sister-in-law,” “cor- 
respondence easier to some than to others,” “ she’ll 
be found out and expelled.” Who could they mean? 
They had looked at her, and suddenly stopped talk- 
ing, as if they had not seen her coming, and they 
were the very girls who had avoided and ceased 
speaking to her. But what cut deeper than all was 
the cold, grave manner of Sister Therese towards 
her, who had one of those sensitive, finely-chiselled 
faces, that, do all she might by prayer or otherwise 
to conceal her feelings, was sure to betray her. 
And lately she had lifted her eyes once or twice, 
when Sister Agnese was least expecting it, and saw 
that she was watching her with a sad, wistful, in- 
quiring look. They rarely conversed together now, 
and when school affairs made it necessary, the gen- 
tle nun spoke kindly, but confined herself strictly 
to the matter in hand. 


PHOSPHOR US. 


183 


“ What have I done to them all, Annie? Have 
you noticed how they treat me? ” she said one even- 
ing, as she and her friend paced up and down the 
long hall leading to the library. There was no one 
there except themselves, and Hester’s heart, more 
than usually tried that day, at last overflowed. 

“You have done nothing, Hester,” replied Annie, 
slipping her arm around her. “I would not mind 
them in the least.” 

“ Ah, but I do mind, now that I see it ! And do 
you know that even Sister Agnese appears changed 
towards me, or she is in trouble about something ?” 

“ Perhaps she is. You know the nuns can’t shut 
out the sorrows of life when they come into the 
cloister. I heard Sister Agnese say once that her 
twin-sister was very delicate, — perhaps she’s ill.” 

“Oh, I do hope not! I have often heard her 
speak of her sister Lillian, and say that leaving her 
was the bitterest trial she had in separating herself 
from the world.” 

“Well,” she sighed, “I must wait, like the 
blessed St. Joseph, who I hope will help me, what- 
ever it all means. You and Nora seem to be — oh, 
yes, and Madge Ward — the only friends I have 
left.” 

Hester had not much longer to wait. Sister The- 
rese sent for her one morrting after recitations, to 
come to her. “She would find her,” Sister Veron- 
ica said, “ in the small parlor.” 

It was in this parlor that the Directress usually 
saw persons who came to the Academy on business 
connected with it, through a grating that ran across 
it. It was indeed small, with but one window, and 


184 


TWO WAYS. 


room for a table and two or three chairs. When 
Hester tapped at the door Sister Agnese opened it 
and bade her come in. Sister Therese was seated by 
the table with several letters lying open before her. 
The door beyond the grate was closed, as usual, and 
there was not a sound to be heard. 

“Did you send for me. Sister?” said Hester, 
pausing a moment just inside the door, which Sister 
Agnese closed. She heard the beating of her own 
heart, there was such a silence. 

“ Yes, sit down, Hester,” said the Directress, 
gravely. “I sent for you, my child, to ask if you 
know anything of these letters. Some of them are 
in your handwriting, and signed with your name, 
in answer to others which are signed ‘J. S/ But 
notwithstanding, I am not willing to believe that 
you have any knowledge of them.” 

“ Letters! ” said Hester, turning very pale; “my 
name! Written by me! May I look at them. Sis- 
ter? ” 

“ Certainly; sit down and examine them.” 

Hester did so. The first one she took up startled 
her, the writing was so precisely like her own; but 
when she read the love-sick contents, her face 
flushed crimson, and she laid it down, saying: 

“ I know nothing of them. I never saw that 
letter before.” 

“ Have you never received a letter signed ‘ J. S. / 
Hester?” 

Then she suddenly remembered the one that Nora 
had brought her three or four weeks before, and the 
color died out of her face, leaving it very pale, ex- 
cept where two red spots glowed upon her cheeks. 


PHOSPHORUS. 


185 


She put her hand into her pocket and drew out the 
crumpled thing, which, up to this moment, she had 
entirely forgotten, and laid it before Sister Therese, 
saying: 

“ This was brought to me four weeks ago by little 
Nora Kinsella, who told me that she had picked it 
up that* day at the ‘ Farm/ under the wall. She 
did not know the rules about keeping away from the 
wall, until I told her. I thought the letter was 
from 'father; and having something to attend to I 
put it into my pocket, to read after I went to the 
Dormitory. I was so angry when I saw what it was, 
that I would have come right to you with it, Sister, 
if it had not been so late, and I did not like to 
break the rules.” 

“Why did you not bring it to me after Mass, 
Hester, the next morning?” 

“I see now that I should have done so, Sister, 
but the idea got into my head that some of the girls 
had written the letter just out of mischief, to tease 
me; then I thought if I noticed it, maybe they’d go 
on. My first impulse was to bring it to you,” she 
answered, her voice now clear and steady. 

“ You made a great mistake in not doing so. I 
scarcely know what to think. You are the very 
last girl in the academy that I should suspect of 
such conduct. Look at these letters, Hester, and 
tell me: is not this your handwriting? ” 

“ It looks like my writing, but it is not. I never 
saw these letters before.” 

“Who is ‘ J. S.?'” 

“I have not the least idea, unless the initials 
stand for John Shirley,” she answered, frankly; 


186 


TWO WAYS. 


“ but I scarcely know John Shirley, and have never 
written him a line in my life, and I don’t think he’d 
dare to write to me in — that ridiculous way.” 
Again the blood surged up into her face at the very 
thought. 

“ This is a most painful affair, Hester; your 
record here is without flaw, and yet there are the 
letters in your handwriting; there are the answers. 
What am I to think? The rules have been broken, 
and this correspondence is of a character that is not 
only imprudent, but shameful.” 

“1 am as ignorant of who has written these let- 
ters as you are. Sister. God is' my witness that I 
never saw them before! ” said the young girl, rising 
from her chair. 

“I wish to believe you, my child, but this is a 
thing that must be cleared up. If innocent, you 
must be proven so in the face of your enemies. If 
any one has been so wicked as to do this to your in- 
jury, it is my bounden duty to expel them as soon as 
they are detected of their guilt. But if this is 
your work, Hester Milburn — ” 

“ Sister, I must see my father! If you doubt me, 
I cannot remain here,” interrupted Hester in low, 
firm tones, while her hands trembled and her lips 
grew white. 

“My child, we must wait,” said Sister Therese, 
solemnly ; justice shall be done. Remember that 
it is not the innocent who fly. No pains shall be 
spared to discover who has done this thing, and 
why. It is useless, therefore, to trouble your 
good father, before it is absolutely necessary. 
Meanwhile, my poor child, lay your case before 


PHOSPHORUS. 


187 


our dear Lord, who knows the secrets of every 
heart.” 

“Do you believe. Sister, supposing me gujjty, 
that I would deny it ?” asked Hester, her voice 
quivering with suppressed emotion. 

The good nun was silent. There was evidently a 
conflict going on in her mind. At length she said, 
“If I judged you, my poor child, by my previous 
knowledge of your character, I should pronounce 
the whole thing a fraud ; but don't you see, that 
your having received a letter from ‘ J. S.' and con- 
cealed it from us, and your admission that the hand- 
writing there is like your own, combined with our 
experience of the weakness of human nature when 
tempted, leaves me in doubt, — cruel doubt. Be- 
sides, our rules have been broken by the fact of this 
clandestine correspondence, and, as ive are responsi- 
ble for the moral safety of those under our charge, 
it becomes a sacred as it is a painful, duty to search 
to the bottom of it.” 

The Directress arose and left the room. Her 
heart was full ; for to suspect Hester Milburn of 
wrong-doing, was a personal pain such as she rarely 
experienced. 

“Hester, come with me ; let us go to our Lord 
with this cross,” said Sister Agnese, tenderly. 

“ Sister Agnese, what will be the result if they — 
think me guilty ?” she asked, in low, pained tones. 

“ You will be sent home,” replied Sister Agnese, 
in a whisper. 

“ After all ” — she said, folding her hands to- 
gether — “ after all my trying ! ” 

“Hester, should you like to go to the Infirmary 


188 


TWO WAYS. 


and remain while, this is going on ? ” asked Sister 
Agnese, whose human impulse was to fold her to 
her, bosom and tell her that she did not believe her 
in fault, although appearances were so strongly 
against her. 

“No, — I shall face it, for lam innocent \” she 
answered, her brave spirit roused at the very idea of 
hiding. “ I should prefer going to the Chapel 
alone, if you please, Sister.” And the two parted 
at the Chapel door. Sister Agnese going back with 
a heavy heart to her duties, and Hester Milburn, 
stunned and bewildered, to lay her sorrows before 
the compassionate heart of the Virgin undefiled. 

Two days of almost insupportable trial followed, 
in which the brave, pure heart of Hester Milburn 
was taxed to the utmost. It was known through 
the Academy that she was under a cloud ; those 
who were at the bottom of the plot knew why, and 
it was through their malicious whispers that what 
the Sisters would have wished to preserve secret for 
various reasons, was bruited about until it became 
generally known among the girls. She was now en- 
tirely avoided, except by Annie Shirley and Madge 
Ward, who behaved just exactly as if they were en- 
tirely unconscious of anything more than usual be- 
ing the matter, and poor little Nora, who received 
her own share of twitting for her devotion to her 
friend, and heard things that were said of her that 
had twice sent her wailing and sobbing to Sister 
Agnese. Henriette de Conti was enlightened as to 
the affair, by Bessie Shaw ; but not having conceived 
. a very favorable opinion of her, she made her bad 
English an excuse for not conversing on the subject. 


PHOSPHORUS. 


189 


Hester Milburn moved on seemingly unconcerned, 
asking no favors, showing no displeasure ; but her 
eyes were heavy, and her face very pale. Her recita- 
tions were perfect ; she neglected no duty. There 
was something grand in the attitude of this young 
girl in the hour of her adversity, which commanded 
almost the respect of the malicious spirits who were 
trying to hunt her down : these were Bessie Shaw 
and two of her intimates, — only three of two hun- 
dred ; but how quickly will bad leaven permeate, 
and embitter the mass that would otherwise have 
been sweet and wholesome ! One evil-minded girl 
in a school is like a plague-spot, and spreads infec- 
tion wherever she comes in contact with others, 
unless, by almost a miracle, they escape. 

Every moment that Hester could spare she spent 
in the Chapel, and had found some little comfort 
from a long conversation she had held with her con- 
fessor. Up to this time she was not conscious of 
ever having had an enemy. “ Who could have done 
this thing, and why ? What will my father think 
of his daughter now ? It will break mother’s heart 
if they make it out against me ! ” were the thoughts 
ever uppermost now. But it was no use thinking, 
and distressing herself by surmises that brought her 
back to the place she started from ; she was, for 
the present, helpless, and could do nothing but 
keep herself and her burden near the foot of the 
cross. 

One evening, coming from the Chapel, she met 
Henriette de Conti, who held out her hand, grasp- 
ing hers warmly and affectionately. The place was 
dusky with the wintry twilight shadows, while the 


190 


TWO WAYS. 


arches on each side were lost in the darkness. By a 
sudden impulse Henriette raised Hester’s hand, and 
after pressing it against her cheek, kissed it, and 
gently released it. That is the way she expressed 
her sympathy, without a word, and Hester was 
deeply touched. 

“I hope, Mees Milburn, I do not anything to 
otfend you ? I have not seen you this two, three 
Mays,” she said, in her sweet, broken way. 

“Oh, no ! no ! I have been very busy; I have 
been very busy, and — in trouble too,” answered 
Hester, with, a choking in her throat. 

“I know, I know, mon amie ! ma chere! Mees 
Shaw, that is named Bessie, she told me ; but I be- 
lieve nothing, no, not one word ! Ah, I do not like 
her ! ” 

“ Thank you for your kind thoughts of me,” re- 
plied Hester, pressing her hand. 

“ I have look for you everywhere, to say some- 
thing, if you will wait just two minute,” said the 
gentle little French girl. 

“ Certainly. What is it, Henriette ? ” 

“ I had a letter from home to-day,” she said, 
speaking, rapidly, in French ; “ I wrote to ask 
mamma about that grand dame Madame Shaw, who 
is her friend ; then she, not knowing, inquired of 
some of her relations to find out who she is, and 
where she lives, this Madame Shaw, whose daughter 
is here at our Convent ; and at last she hears that 
she is a modiste , whose shop is down town, away 
from the French quarter, and mamma bids me make 
no acquaintance, for there is something not credita- 
ble about Madame. You see how false this Bessie 


PHOSPHORUS. 


191 


is, with her grand talk, and her lies about you, 'mon 
amie ! ” 

“ Do not speak to any one else, Henriette, of 
what your mother writes ; it would make Bessie 
Shaw’s position very disagreeable here, because they 
all think it is so different with her,” said Hester, 
after a short struggle with herself, for the tempta- 
tion was strong upon her to let her enemy be hum- 
bled. “ I thank you very much for your kindness ; 
but I am in trouble, you know, and you must not 
come to me again until I am cleared ; your mamma 
would not approve.” 

“ If my mamma were only here, she would fight 
for you ; my mamma is a noble lady, who will not 
be silent when the good are wronged ! ” exclaimed 
the young girl, enthusiastically. Hester took her 
fair, sweet face between her hands, kissed her fore- 
head, and went away, while she tripped to the 
Chapel, where she went in to pray for her friend. 

Neither Hester nor Henriette de Conti saw Madge 
Ward and Ada Gray standing back in the shadow 
waiting for them to pass, without, however, any in- 
tention of eavesdropping, but hearing all. 

“ Whew ! ” exclaimed Madge Ward ; so she don’t 
belong to the royal family, after all ! ” 

“ I never believed that she did. So much brag sel- 
dom has any truth in it.” 

“ Are you going to tell ? ” 

“Of course I’m going to tell. She puts on too 
many airs for my use. She ordered me to stop 
talking this morning ! I suspect she knows more 
about this affair of Hester Milburn’s than any one • 
else, and I shouldn’t wonder if she’s at the bottom 


192 


TWO WAYS. 


of it. How should she know so much ! Fm sure 
Hester Milburn never made a confidante of her. She 
shan't rule me with a rod of iron any longer." 

“That little Conti is a regular trump!" said 
Madge, in an ecstasy; “come on, I'm going to send 
on an order at once to Madame Shaw for one of her 
handsomest French hats. I never heard anything 
more delightful." 

Madge Ward, you see, wasn't much of a saint, or 
she would not have rejoiced so over Bessie Shaw's 
coming humiliation; she only thought of her intol- 
erable airs, and her enmity to Hester Milburn, 
which appeared to her to be without a show of 
excuse, and was heartily glad to know that she 
would lose credit in the way that, of all others, 
would be the most mortifying to her pride and 
vanity. 

There's a spice of savagery in school-boy and 
school-girl nature, an offshoot of the old Adam, 
that will crop out, and cannot be wholly kept under 
even by the best and strongest system. It is some- 
times so irrepressible that one is half tempted to 
believe in total depravity. The Catholic religion is 
the only panacea and help for it; but it makes 
tough battle at the best, until the indwelling savage 
gets somewhat tamed by time and experience. 

Very early on the day following, a gentleman got 
out of a carriage at the Convent door, and sent in 
his card to the Sister Directress. “He had come 
on business," he said, “ and would detain her only 
a short time." He was invited into the parlor, and 
• informed that the directress would be there immedi- 
ately. This gentleman was Mr. Preston, the drug- 


PlIOSPH OB U S. 


193 


gist, at whose shop, it was said, the prescription in 
which poison had been put by mistake had been 
made up, and of which the patient — a woman — had 
died. But what could lie possibly want at the 
Georges Street Convent? We shall see. 

The Directress, after some little delay, came in to 
see what Mr. Preston’s business might be. She 
saluted him in her usual grave, dignified way, and 
requested him to be seated;— she within the grat- 
ing, he outside. 

“ I should not have kept you waiting, Mr. Pres- 
ton, but I was in a distant part of the building, and 
it took the portress some little time to find me,” 
she observed, with a look of inquiry in her eyes. 

“ I will not detain you, madam, a moment longer 
than necessary. Pm afraid that I have come on 
disagreeable business, as it affects one of the young 
ladies under your charge/’ said Mr. Preston, 
gravely. 

“ I am at a loss to understand you, Mr. Preston: 
will you be good enough to explain, sir?” 

Then Mr. Preston related the story of the fatal 
prescription, and how — it being believed that it was 
put up at his shop — it had affected his reputation and 
his business. The friends of the woman who had 
died from the use of that prescription, asserted and 
proved that it was bought on the 13th of December. 
He had no such prescription as the one described on 
file, and he had traced every one who had been 
there on the 13th, and proved everything that had 
been purchased of him that day, except in one 
instance. Two young ladies had got out of their 
carriage and come into his shop on the 13th of 


194 


TWO WAYS. 


December, and while one of them stopped at the 
case to buy a tooth-brush, the other went to the 
other end of the counter and purchased a vial of 
phosphorus. His clerk wondered what she could 
want with phosphorus, and took a good look at her 
noticing that she was quite young and very pretty. 
He recollected day and date more particularly from 
the fact that as they were about leaving the door 
two college students were passing, to whom the 
young lady who bought the phosphorus had kissed 
her hand; and a second or two afterwards the 
young fellows were in a row with some boot-blacks, 
which collected quite a mob just below them. This 
happened on the 13th, as my clerk remembers from 
having mislaid the calendar, and being obliged to 
ask the day of the month to date an invoice he was 
making out,” said Mr. Preston. “ One of my 
junior clerks, who recently left college to learn the 
drug business with me, knew the collegians byname, 
and I have seen them both, and questioned them. 
One of them, a son of Mr. Shirley, for some reason 
or other had made a note of the affair and date on 
the tablets of his porte-monnaie; it was on the 13th 
of December. They remembered having seen 
the young ladies oil my door-step, and that one 
of them had thrown a kiss to them, but I could 
not learn her name from them; but as my business 
reputation was at stake, and my affairs suffering by 
the unfortunate affair, I drove over again this morn- 
ing, and having explained the case to the lads in 
the presence of the President of the College, I told 
them that it was absolutely necessary, to my com- 
plete vindication, to know that young lady’s name. 


PHOSPHORUS . 


195 


that I might be able to prove conclusively that 
phosphorus was the only poison sold by us on 
that day. And, madam, by command of the Pres- 
ident, they told me that she was a pupil here, and 
that her name is Bessie Shaw.” 

Then, of a sudden, it flashed across the mind of 
Sister Therese that a vial had been picked up some- 
where on the morning after Nora Kinsella’s scare 
with the label partly torn off, and the letters orus 
on the remaining part. She stepped to the door 
and requested the portress to send Sister Agnese to 
her; then shocked beyond expression by the possibil- 
ities that began to rush through her mind, she re- 
sumed her seat, only outwardly calm. 

“ Some of the pupils were out that day; Bessie 
Shaw, I recollect, had permission to enjoy a drive 
with one of her friends; but what could have in- 
duced her to buy phosphorus, I cannot imagine. 
Are you sure, Mr. Preston, that it was phos- 
phorus? ” 

“It is on my file of drug-sales for that day, 
madam, — December 13th; but you see I must have 
proof from the person who bought it,” said Mr. 
Preston. 

Sister Agnese appeared at the door, the Direc- 
tress whispered a few words, and she hurried away 
but returned in a few moments with Bessie Shaw, 
who came in as confidently as if she expected noth- 
ing else than to see or hear some one or something 
that would be very agreeable. While waiting for 
her, Sister Therese remembered the ravings of poor 
Nora about a phantom with flaming face and fiery 
hands, that had nearly caused her death, and she 


196 


TWO WAYS. 


felt convinced now that it had been no chimera of 
the child’s fancy, but a terrible reality, and that 
the phosphorus bought on the 13th, at Mr. Pres- 
ton’s, was the agent used on the occasion. 

Bessie Shaw showed some trepidation at the 
grave looks that met her, and wondered who that 
man was who seemed to eye her so curiously. 

“ This is the young lady, Mr. Preston. I sup- 
pose you remember, Bessie, the drive you were 
allowed to take with Mrs. Spencer and her niece on 
the 13th of December? ” said Sister Therese, hop- 
ing, almost against hope, that there was some 
mistake. 

“ Yes, Sister! ” 

“ Did you stop at a drug-store whilst you were 
out?” 

“ Oh, yes! I believe we did, to get some tooth- 
ache drops,” she replied, a little confused at first, 
but rallying. 

“ Please try and remember clearly. Miss,” said Mr. 
Preston. “ It was at my shop that you bought the 
phosphorus; the day you kissed your hands to the 
college lads, who bowed to you as they passed.” 

“ I didn’t, at all,” she said shortly. “I declare 
I didn’t, Sister! The idea of my kissing my hand 
to a boy on the street! ” 

“ Aye, but you did, Miss. I can prove that you 
did. And it was on that day you bought a vial of 
phosphorus instead of tooth- ache drops.” 

The girl turned scarlet, then pallid. How r had 
they found her out? 

“I never bought phosphorus in my life. I don’t 
know what it is!” she exclaimed. 


PIIOSPHOli US. 


197 


“Be careful, Bessie,” said Sister Agnese, at a 
sign from the Directress, as she drew the vial from 
her pocket with the torn label still upon it, just as 
it was the morning it was picked up in the court, — 
the morning after Nora Kinsella had been fright- 
ened into convulsions. 

“If you will examine the side of that vial, 
madam, you will see my name moulded there in the 
glass: R. Prestok. I should know my bottles in 
Egypt, or anywhere else. It is an ounce vial, a§ 
described in evidence by my clerk, who is in the 
carriage outside, and will come in to identify not 
only the vial, but the young lady also.” 

“Oh, don't! don't!” she exclaimed, throwing 
herself at Sister Therese's feet on finding herself 
discovered. “I’ll tell you all. I only did it for 
fun! I did not think it would scare her so!” 


CHAPTER XII. 


DENOUEMENT ! 

“Unfortunate child! Get up and control 
yourself! You can make some amende by telling 
this gentleman that which it is necessary for him to 
know. The motive and consequences of your fault 
will be scrutinized at another time,” said the 
Directress, in a low voice, to the kneeling, fright- 
ened girl. 

Bessie Shaw arose, shaking in every limb, and 
dropped into a chair. She acknowledged having 
bought the phosphorus at Mr. Preston’s shop on 
the 13th of December, and signed a paper to that 
effect, nothing more being required by him. What 
she wanted with it, or what she did with it after 
she got it, was none of his business; although he 
felt assured, by the agitation of her manner, that 
there was some mystery connected with it. He was 
satisfied to have found the only missing proof of 
that day’s sale of medicines, without prying into 
what did not concern him. He rose to go. 

“Thank you, young lady! I must beg pardon, 
madam, for having interrupted you; I could not 
avoid it without ruin to my business. All’s right 
now, however, thank God!” 

“ No apology is necessary, Mr. Preston. This 
interview has been a painful one, but it may result 


DENOUEMENT ! 


199 


in more good than yon imagine," replied Sister 
Tlierese. Then Mr. Preston bowed himself out, 
and they heard his carriage drive off. 

I will draw a veil over what passed between Sister 
Therese and Bessie Shaw, in the presence of Sister 
Agnese, after Mr. Preston left. The unhappy girl’s 
confession was full and abject, as to all except the 
motive which had induced her to attempt so cruel a 
joke on an inoffensive child; we say "joke,” be- 
cause she persisted in saying that she only did it for 
fun; had she been more frank, a clew would have 
been afforded then that would have somewhat en- 
lightened the good nuns concerning other things 
which were yet a painful mystery to them. As it 
was, they were shocked beyond expression. Noth- 
ing like it had ever occurred in their long expe- 
rience. 

"It is my duty to consult with others in your 
case, Bessie Shaw; meanwhile, except when in stud- 
ies and class, you will confine yourself to the Infir- 
mary, until a decision as to your punishment is 
arrived at. Suppose that poor child had died! 
You would have had the guilt of murder — yes, mur- 
der — on your soul, which not even the plea of a 
reckless ‘joke’ would have been sufficient to pal- 
liate. I can only pray that no worse motive than 
thoughtless fun may be found at the bottom of it,” 
said Sister Therese, in severe tones. "I wish you 
to go immediately to the South Infirmary, where 
you will spend the remainder of the day in soli- 
tude.” 

The miserable girl could make no reply, but fol- 
lowed the two nuns, who walked away together 


200 


TWO WAYS. 


down through the long corridor which led from the 
front of the building, to the hall that divided it 
from the Academy portion. A wide staircase 
ascended from this hall to the stories above, in front 
of which a folding door opened upon a porch that 
ran the entire length of that side of the house. As 
Sister Therese drew near the door, Sister Agnese 
went away to her class-room, and Bessie Shaw, lin- 
gering a moment before she went up to the Infir- 
mary, saw old Patrick step across the porch and 
hand, her a letter. As if petrified with horror, the 
girl clung to the banisters; for to her guilty con- 
science the sight of that letter in the old gardener’s 
hand was more accusing than Banquo’s ghost to his 
murderer. 

“ It’s another of ’em, Sister, it was stuck amongst 
the broke bottles a- top of the wall, an’ this time I 
saw the one as did it. It was pushed up from our 
side wi’ a bean pole!” 

The Directress took the letter, which was ad- 
dressed to Miss Hester Milburn. 

“Do you know him, Patrick?” 

“An’ sure it wasn’t a him at all, but one of our 
own young misses; an’ the saints pity her, if there 
she ain’t herself!” exclaimed Patrick, shading his 
eyes with his hand, and peering under it at Bessie, 
who had heard all that he said, and sank upon the 
steps unable to move; while Sister Therese’s heart 
grew sick and faint at the thought of the duplicity 
and wickedness which, in an instant, was revealed 
to her. 

“But are you sure, Patrick? This is a very 
serious accusation to make,” she said. 


DENOUEMENT l 


201 


“Am I sure of tlie nose on my face? She did it, 
and can’t deny it, faith!” said Patrick, shaking his 
finger towards the cowering girl. 

“That will do, Patrick! Follow me. Miss 
Shaw,” said the Directress, whose words were low 
and distinct, her countenance pale and severe, while 
the poor human heart under her religious habit was 
ready to cry out with the grief of this fresh cross 
that had seemed to drop out of the clouds upon 
her. After the first shock, the thought of Hester 
Milburn, wounded by false accusations and under 
censure, came into her mind; this was followed by 
mingled anger and pity for the unfortunate girl 
who had, for reasons unknown, wrought all this 
mischief; and last of all, the solemn inquiry pre- 
sented itself: “How many, and how far had she 
contaminated others by her bad example and evil 
counsels?” while down into her soul rang the pun- 
gent, searching question; “ Were these things that 
had happened as it were under her very eye due to 
any neglect of duty on her part, or on the part of 
those under whose immediate supervision the pupils 
always were ?” 

Alas, poor nuns! who, according to the ideas of 
the world, drop your crosses at the portals of the 
cloister, there to leave them for a dreamy life of 
repose and indolent quietude within, how little 
does it know of the “ hand-to-hand ” warfare of 
your souls against the “enemies of their own 
household,” and with the human littlenesses and 
meannesses and envyings and jealousies and weak- 
nesses with which they are brought in da’ly con- 
tact, especially in the large schools attached by ne* 


202 


TWO WAYS. 


cessity to every convent, where in the exercises of 
the virtues the opportunities are hourly, but not 
heroic; a sort of slow martyrdom without the 
palms, harder to endure than a quick release by fire 
or sword! Do not forget this, young friends who 
are being educated in convent-schools, and let the 
thought help you to a due consideration of your 
duty towards those by whose patient and uncom- 
plaining endeavors you are receiving the best of all* 
earthly boons — a good Christian education. But I 
did not mean to preach, so will go back to my 
story. 

After a due and impartial sifting of the whole 
matter, it was decided that Bessie Shaw must be 
expelled. She had made a clean breast of it, — she 
alone had written all the letters; but fear, not peni- 
tence, actuated her confession of guilt; for, like 
most of her kind, she was a coward at heart, and 
was even secretly glad that she was going home. 
She consoled herself by thinking of the fine clothes 
she would wear, and how she meant to enjoy her- 
self at Saratoga the coming summer, where— as no 
one knew them — she expected to dash, and perhaps 
make a brilliant match for herself. 

“Yes," she said to Madge Ward, who had got 
permission to see her for a few minutes, to return a 
ring she had been wearing, “ Fm glad Pm going 
from such a musty, slow old place. Fm sick of 
nuns, and books, and such a low set of girls! ” 

“Look here, Bessie Shaw!” blurted out Madge 
Ward; “ such words come with a mighty poor grace 
from yon. I know that it's no disgrace to be the 
daughter of a milliner, but to be q shamed of it, and 


DENOUEMENT ! 


203 


put on consequential airs, and pretend this, that 
and the other, as you have done, besides all that has 
just happened, is more than I can stand. Fm sorry 
for your mother, that's all!” 

And so they all knew her history; she was ready 
to brazen out her guilt when the worst came; but 
for it to be found out that her mother was a mil- 
liner! She wished the earth might open and swal- 
low her. This was the first intimation she had 
received that the mortifying fact was known, she 
had been kept so entirely separated from her old 
companions. 

The atmosphere grew clearer after Bessie Shaw 
disappeared from among them. Hester Milburn 
was fully vindicated, and her innocence of all 
wrong-doing announced before the classes assem- 
bled in the study-room in terms of encomium 
which, although well deserved, made her cover her 
face with her hands as she sat at her desk, to con- 
ceal her emotion. She determined to try to forget 
and forgive, for the love of Him whose forgiveness 
she would ever need unto the. end, while she offered 
up the hurt and mortification of her bitter trial 
with His dear Passion. Her crowning nobleness 
was to seek — unknown to any one except Sister 
Agnese — an interview with Bessie Shaw the evening 
before she left the Convent for her home, to assure 
her that she bore her no ill-will, and wished her 
well; but while she, full of generous emotion, said 
all that was in her heart with flushed cheeks and in 
tremulous tones, and took her hand to press in 
token of forgiveness, that young lady, with a hard 
stare, curled her lip, snatched her hand out of 


204 


TWO WAYS. 


Hester’s gentle clasp, and turned her back upon 
her! 

“How did she receive you, Hester?” asked Sister 
Agnese. 

“ She feels very badly over what has happened, 
and no doubt blames me for it all, so I did not 
expect to be received exactly as a friend; but I’m 
satisfied in having done what seemed right to me, 
all the same. Sister! ” 

“It not only seemed , but it was right, my child,” 
replied Sister Agnese. 

The girls were — as the saying is— all dying with 
curiosity to know what had been found out, through 
whom, and by what means; but except that which 
Bessie Shaw’s own intimates betrayed, and that the 
clouds which overhung Hester Milburn were dis- 
persed, and that the erring girl who had caused all 
the mischief was suddenly going to leave within 
a few months of her graduation, they could get at 
no particulars. Silence was charity in this case, 
and, like any other nine days’ wonder, after every 
known fact, and every surmise relating to the 
affair, had been talked to tatters, it passed away 
out of mind and out of interest, except to certain 
thoughtful natures, to whom Bessie Shaw’s example 
remained a warning; and who now only waited a 
letter from her mother to return home. 

Mr. and Mrs. Milburn had heard nothing of what 
had been going on at the Convent Academy; and 
since Hester had not seen her father — who was in 
the habit of coming every Wednesday to visit her, 
and of sometimes stopping on his way to his office 
to leave a package or letter for her — for ten days. 


DENOUEMENT ! 


m 


nor had she received a line from her mother; both 
things of such unusual occurrence, that she began 
to fear something must be the matter at home. 

Something was the matter at “ Oak Grove/'* and 
there had been strange doings at the Kinsellas, 
which I will relate while Hester finds exercise for 
her patience as hour after hour, day by day, 
passed by without bringing her the intelligence she 
so much desired. 

It had been pouring rain for nearly three days; 
the water came down in such a wash from the 
clouds, that things were swept loose generally; the 
streams were swelled into torrents, farms over- 
flowed, mill-dams broken, and cattle carried away to 
destruction by sudden freshets. The very morning 
that Bessie Shaw left the Georges Street Convent 
to start for St. Louis, the sun arose clear and 
beautiful, and there was not a cloud to be seen in 
the heavens. That day Teddy Kinsella happened 
to be quite alone at “ Hill-side ” cottage; his granny 
was at market, and his mother had gone to “ Oak 
Grove ” to assist Mrs. Milburn with some sewing. 
The red cloak, in which granny had discovered a 
moth the day before, flamed and flapped upon the 
line; the sunshine flowed brightly through the 
clear window-panes of the old brown house upon 
Teddy at work, carving, with nobody to watch him 
except the cat, and some little bead-like eyes that 
peeped out through the chinks of the chair-board- 
ing. The boy was very happy, and whistled “Pat- 
rick^ Hay in the Morning ” like an Irish thrush. 
But all at once he heard “ Snap ” barking, then 
there arose a squealing amongst the pigs, and up 


206 


TWO WAYS. 


started Teddy upon his crutches, to inquire into the 
fray, having no doubt but that the wind had blown 
the red cloak down, and they were fighting for the 
best place upon it. But no! the cloak was all safe, 
and a rough-looking man, with a great cudgel in 
his hands, was trudging towards the door. Teddy 
didn't like the looks of the thing; but he deter- 
mined to show a brave front, anyhow, though the 
fellow was big and strong enough to demolish him 
with a blow of his fist, if he came there with evil 
intentions. 

“I say! got any men 'bout here?" asked the 
man, halting at the door-steps, while Teddy, stand- 
ing on the threshold, steadily awaited his ap- 
proach. 

“ What’s that to you?" said Teddy, gruffly. 

t( Nothin', maybe, but you'd best keep a civil 
tongue in your head, youngster. You'll be no use; 
but if thar's a man 'bout, tell him the rain's played 
hobbs wi' that trestle bridge back yonder, on the 
P'int o' Rock Railroad. Thar's been a fresh, an' 
this end's down! " 

“ Why didn't you wait along the road to signal 
the train?" demanded Teddy, with fine spirit. 

“ W hat's that to you? "said the man, repeating 
his words with a coarse laugh. “ But I'll tell you. 
I'm goin' to cut 'cross the country; poor devils like 
me has to ride Shanks's Mare, so I couldn’t wait to 
signal the train that'll be down at four o'clock. 
Seems to me it's only jest happened, sence the 
mornin' train went by. Thar's no station long 
tliar, an' if somebody don't do somethin', whew! 
won't tliar be a smash-up! " 


DENOUEMENT! 


207 


Teddy knew that the Point of Rocks Road, by 
which the Western trains came out, had no connec- 
tion .with the railroad that ran past the foot of 
their hill; it was at least four miles away, in an 
entirely different direction, and it would be no use 
making signals to them. He knew exactly where 
the trestle bridge was, for his poor father had 
helped to build it, and used to take him, now and 
then, to stay with him in his shanty, to get country 
air. 

“ If I was a big strong man like you, I'd go 
back," said Teddy, gravely. 

“I wouldn't. Pve got other fish to fry. S'pose 
you go along?" answered the fellow, with a coarse 
laugh. Then he shouldered his bundle that dan- 
gled at the end of a stick, and trudged off, shying 
his cudgel now at “ Snap," who barked at his heels, 
and now at the pigs, that had huddled themselves 
right in his way. 

The boy stood there thinking of the fearful and 
inevitable destruction of human life that must 
certainly come; the broken limbs, the mangled 
bodies, the groans and cries that would pierce the 
air before the sun set, unless some one should find 
out, and go there in time to signal the out-coming 
train of danger ahead, until he was nearly beside 
himself. No more carving or drawing for Teddy 
that day! But what could he do, small and lame as 
he was? He wrung his hands, — his heart beat 
wildly at the thought of all those human lives to be 
wrecked; he made some steps out, in front of the 
house, and looked up and down the road to see if 
any one was coming, to whom he could halloo, and 


20 8 


TWO WAYS. 


tell the frightful news, but did not see a living 
soul. Then he threw himself upon his knees, and 
lifting up his hands, cried out: “0 my God! help 
me — help me to save them!” His granny’s red 
cloak flapping over his head, gave him a sharp slap 
on his cheek. 

“HI take it,” said Teddy, “I’ll take it if she 
kills me for it, and go if I have to crawl, and I’ll tie 
it to the end of my crutch, and sit a-top of the hill 
there, and wave it ! I’ll wave it so that the engi- 
neer can’t help but see it, in time to back. That 
fellow said the break was at this end of the bridge.” 
No sooner said than done. He knocked the clothes- 
pins off the cloak with one of his crutches, and 
hauled it from the line, and wrapped it round him- 
self, the hood over his head, looking more like a 
kelpie than a human being as he hopped away, with- 
out giving a thought to the wide open door, and 
the house left without a protector. Up hill and 
down, falling and scrambling to his feet again, 
slipping, sliding, rolling, until he was caked with 
mud, panting and aching in every limb, and pray- 
ing with every breath that God would not let him 
fall short of his work, the brave little cripple pur- 
sued his difficult way. “If I die just afterwards I 
don’t mind, so they are saved ! ” was what he re- 
peated again and again. At length, past noon, he 
knew by the sun, he got to the place, a few hun- 
dred yards from the trestle bridge, upon a bank that 
he had been struggling for weary hours to reach, 
and he dropped down panting upon the wet, sodden 
earth. Everything was as still as death. He was 
in time. 


DENOUEMENT / 


209 


“ Rouse up, Teddy, boy, fix your flag and raise it, 
so they’ll see it first tiling ; it’ll be none too soon ! ” 
he said bravely. The red cloak is covered with 
mud on one side, but on the other it is unsoiled. 
He took his shoe-strings, that were made of strong 
leather, and tied his granny’s old Irish cloak to the 
end of one of his crutches, and waited ready, the 
signal flag erect. At last he feels, rather than hears, 
the low reverberating thunders of the advancing 
train ; nearer and nearer it comes ; the scarlet cloak 
is waving wildly up and down, backwards and for- 
wards, as fast as his puny hands can move it. There 
is the train in sight at last ; the engineer does not 
notice ; he is on the lookout straight ahead for the 
bridge, expecting to see a signal there if anything 
has gone wrong. 

“0 God ! why will they not see ?” screamed the 
boy, growing faint and sick. But the train comes 
dashing on, then — he is seen at last — it is slowed, 
the brakes are put down, the engine reversed ; but 
the sudden backward movement forces the locomo- 
tive — a great camel-back for the mountain grades — 
back, crashing and grinding into the forward car, 
the force slightly broken by the tender, which is 
crunched to pieces ; the other cars fall, together with 
an awful jar ; then all movement ceases, before the 
bridge is reached. Their lives are saved, but more 
than a hundred human beings are wounded and 
maimed by the splintered wood, broken iron, and the 
crashing in of the locomotive, and cries and shrieks 
and moans fill the air. This is the train by which 
Bessie Shaw started homeward. 

It does not take long for news of a catastrophe 


210 


. TWO WAYS. 


like this to travel. Those who escaped hurt went 
in search of assistance, and in less than an hour sev- 
eral gentlemen of the neighborhood were on the 
ground with their carriages, servants, and such re- 
storatives as they could hurriedly collect. There 
were two physicians among the passengers, who were 
fortunately unhurt, and proved indefatigable in 
their attentions to the wounded. Mr. Milburn 
found a fair young girl in one of the cars, upon the 
floor, half- covered with a cUlris of broken seats, 
panels, and smashed windows. She was insensible, 
and he at first thought that she was dead, she lay 
so white and still. He soon cleared away the wrecks 
around her, and lifting her tenderly in his arms — 
thinking of his own daughter the while — carried her 
into the air, where she revived, and he then admin- 
istered a small quantity of brandy. She attempted 
to move, but with a piercing shriek again fainted. 
Both her feet were crushed. Nothing could be 
done there, and Mr. Milburn lifted her into his 
buggy, holding her in his arms, and conveyed her 
home to “ Oak Grove,” where she was laid upon 
Hester’s bed, with Mrs. Milburn hanging over her 
weeping, while the surgeon, who was swiftly sum- 
moned, examined her hurts. It was Bessie Shaw. 
One of her feet had to be amputated, to save her 
life. On learning her name, and place of residence, 
Mr. Milburn started immediately for St. Louis to 
bring her mother to her, who had hysterics from the 
time she started, and went to bed as soon as she 
reached the “ Grove,” declaring that it would kill her 
to see her unfortunate .child, and Mrs. Milburn had 
to nurse them both. 


DENOUEMENT ! 


211 


But to return to the accident at the bridge. 
After the wounded and bruised had been attended 
to, and conveyed to comfortable quarters by one and 
another of those who lived thereabouts, and it was 
discovered that although several were frightfully in- 
jured no one had been actually killed, and how very 
near all of them had been to certain death, the ex- 
citement began to subside, and a quiet thankfulness 
filled each heart, which was mingled with an ear- 
nest desire to know how and by what means they 
had been saved, as by a miracle. The engineer was 
surrounded, and told his story : Seeing no signal 
near the bridge, he concluded that all was right, 
and was dashing along, when all at once he saw 
something red waving a-top of the bank on the 
other side. It was a big red shawl, or something in 
the hands of a boy. “ Then, thinks I,” he said, 
“there's something give way at that end of the 
bridge, sure ; so I reversed the engine, and blew the 
whistle to put down brakes just in time to save us 
from utter destruction. I wonder what became of 
that chap and his red flag? Has anybody seen 
him? " 

No one had seen him. 

“I think, then. I'll go see what's become of him, 
if I can get across the gap on the other side of the 
bridge," said the man. 

“ It's no use tryin' thar. A little further up 
thar's a country bridge, stone-built, if it ain't 
washed down," said a countryman. “I'll show you 
the way if you've a mind to." 

The man was thanked, and followed by the engi- 
neer and several gentlemen. The stone bridge was 


212 


TWO WAYS. 


all safe, and across it they went to search for the 
boy with the red flag. They soon reached the high 
bank where the engineer last saw him, and when 
they got to the top of it there he was, doubled up 
in aheap not much bigger than your fist, and nearly 
buried under the red cloak ! They thought, at 
first, that he was dead, he lay so motionless and 
white ; but he had only swooned away, from excite- 
ment and exhaustion, after he saw that his work 
was done. They gathered him tenderly up, wrap- 
ping him and his crutches in the red cloak, as in a 
flag of glory, and carried him in their arms to the 
scene of the disaster, where the doctors brought him 
to, and administered restoratives. After a while 
they questioned him, and he told them simply how 
it was ; and when they saw that he was puny and 
lame, and heard how he had risked his very life to 
save theirs, there was not a dry eye to be seen, 
while a generous impulse to testify their gratitude 
for his unselfish courage filled the hearts of those 
who, but for him, would have met a fate which 
made the bravest heart among them quail to think 
of. 

There was a tremendous breeze, though, at the 
Kinsella cottage, when Teddy’s mother got home 
about four o’clock, and missed him, which increased 
to a hurricane, when granny arrived shortly after- 
wardsj and learned that Teddy had been spirited 
away, and her red cloak gone ! It wasn’t the pigs 
this time, that she knew from seeing heavy foot- 
prints about the door, and clothes-pins lying around 
loose ; and she was convinced that some tramp had 
been there and murdered the boy, then hid his poor 


DENOUEMENT ! 


213 


little body out of sight, — the better to rob the 
house. He must have been scared off, though, be- 
fore he accomplished his object, for nothing was 
missing except the red cloak, and everything re- 
mained in the house just as they had left it in the 
morning, — even Teddy's scraps of carving and an 
unfinished bracket, his glue-pot, brushes, varnish 
and all, were there, as if he had only then pushed 
back his chair, and gone out for something ! They 
searched every corner of the house, and the out- 
houses, but no trace of Teddy could be found. The 
two women — now almost beside themselves — could 
make nothing of it ; presently his mother thought 
he had gone to the woods for pine-cones and acorns, 
to decorate his work with, and thither they ran, 
making the echoes resound with Teddy's name ; but 
they “called, and nothing answered back again." 
They went back to the house, granny pouring forth 
her grief in Irish, mingled with prolonged ullaloos, 
which sent the dogs howling around the house as if 
Hecate were after them, while Mrs. Kinsella's lam- 
entations were scarcely less incoherent. Then, 
when they could do nothing else, they fell into each 
other's arms to cry, for never until then did either 
of them know how dearer to them than all the 
world was their puny, crippled hoy. 

Having exhausted the first violence of their grief, 
they began to grow rational ! Perhaps, after all, 
Teddy had been seized with a sudden desire to go 
visiting, and was at that moment seated at some 
neighbor's fireside enjoying himself, while they were 
raising a ruck worse than ten wakes ! He never 
had gone off so before, but that was no reason why 


214 


TWO WAYS. 


he never should. This was the first sensible idea 
that had suggested itself to their distracted minds, 
and they rose up, wrapped their shawls about them, 
put on their quilted hoods, and started to go to 
William Heiders, the Dutch miller, who lived half 
a mile away, his house being the nearest ; but no 
sooner had they got to the- gate than they saw a 
party of men approaching them with something in 
red — they could not see what, for by this time it 
was getting dusk — mounted upon a pair of brawny 
shoulders, and heard a shrill voice, high strung with 
excitement, shouting : 

“ It’s me, granny ! It's Teddy, mammy ! ” 

“ Glory to God ! ” screamed granny, dropping up- - 
on her knees in the mud, “ an 5 glory to the Blessed 
Virgin, aid St. Patrick, for bringiid ye back ! ” 

It did not take a second for Mrs. Kinsella to get 
her boy in her arms, to press him close, close to her 
bosom, and cover his face with kisses ; then he took 
his turn with granny, who rejoiced in English and 
scolded in Irish alternately, while she caressed him. 
Then the men, who had cried and laughed at the 
same time over the scene, told the two women all 
about how Teddy had saved the lives of so many 
people by waving the red cloak when he saw the 
train coming ; and while tears rained over granny’s 
cheeks, she declared that “ it was by rayson of St. 
Patrick’s blessin’ on the ould red cloak altogether, 
that they wern’t all in Purgatory, or a worse place, 
maybe, glory to God, who had put it into the little 
baccah’s * head to go.” In her joy she wanted to 


* Lame person. 


DENOUEMENT ! 


215 


spread a feast for the men, but they had not time to 
wait ; they were on their way to the city to report 
the disaster to the railroad company, and how the 
train, with its freight of human life, had been saved. 
Then, as she could do nothing else, she harnessed 
up her horse to her best light wagon, and made the 
tired fellows get into it, trusting to their honesty to 
bring it back, and not caring much if she never saw 
it again, now that she had got Teddy back. 

This was the news Mr. Milburn brought Hester 
one morning, and why she had heard nothing from 
home in all this time ; but when she learned at last 
— for Mr. Milburn withheld her name for awhile, 
fearing that such sad news about a school-companion 
would shock her — that the wounded, maimed girl 
who had been taken care of by her father, and was 
at that moment lying upon her own bed at “ Oak 
Grove,” was Bessie Shaw, her heart overflowed with 
a tender, forgiving pity, and for some minutes she 
wept in silence. 

“ The poor child,” continued Mr. Milburn, “ was 
almost despairing when she heard that her foot 
must be amputated, and nearly raved herself into a 
fever ; but she became more calm after the opera- 
tion, when the physician assured her that otherwise 
it would have been impossible to save her life. I 
told you that I went to St. Louis and brought her 
mother to her ; but she is an uneducated, incapable 
woman, who goes off in hysterics at the very sight of 
the poor girTs bandaged feet, and your mother has 
really more trouble with her than with the suffering 
patient. Maum Betsy is full of a burning desire to 
shake her, I can see by the way she glares at her 


216 


Tiro WAYS. 


when she goes off in her fantods, but your mother 
holds her ire in check.” 

“ Take me home with you, father ! ” said Hester ; 
“ I can help ! ” 

“ Excuse me, my dear, we can get on without you 
at present ; besides, I haven't room to-dav. I’m 
waiting for Father Grayson, who is to join me here 
and go out with me to see Bessie Shaw, at her own 
urgent request.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that, my dearest 
father ! ” she exclaimed. 

“Yes, the poor child needs all the consolation 
that religion can give now,” he answered gravely. 

“ But she was not a Catholic, dearest father. 
Oh, it is so consoling to think that all the good 
lessons she learnt here are not lost ! I know that 
her trial will be greatly lessened by the happiness of 
being a Catholic.” 

“ No doubt of that,” said Mr. Milburn, looking 
at his watch. 

“This good news has quite put Teddy — the little 
hero ! — out of my head ; how is he, after his ex- 
ploit ? ” 

“ Bless your life ! Teddy’s about the biggest 
man in Maryland now. He has been interviewed, 
and put into the picture-papers, and written about, 
— who but he. Best of all, however, there was a 
handsome purse made up for him, which will edu- 
cate him, and give him a fair start in life, either as 
an architect or a maker of designs for ornamental 
purposes.” 

“ Why, father, that’s splendid news ! You’re like 
an avalanche, to-day. I don’t know what’ll be done 


DENOUEMENT ! 


217 


with Nora, when I tell her about it ; then the sisters 
will be so sorry, and so glad, to hear about Bessie 
Shaw ! ” 

“ Here’s Father Grayson, at last ! Good-bye, 
darling !” said Mr. Milburn, kissing his daughter 
to go, as soon as he heard Father Grayson’s voice at 
the door ; then he ran out, and they drove off to- 
gether, while Hester went immediately in search of 
the Directress and Sister Agnese, to tell them the 
news ; after which she hunted Nora up, to tell her 
about Teddy. 

Bessie Shaw was now, indeed, a true penitent. 
As bad as you have seen her, you do not yet know 
her worst sin, — that sin out of which had grown all 
the faults and disorders she had committed. She 
had denied her faith ! she had announced herself 
a Protestant when she first came to the Convent ; 
this act being one of the results of early training, or 
rather of continued neglect on her mother’s part re- 
lating to her religious and moral education, her 
mother being a careless Catholic, who preferred the 
pleasures of the world, and freedom from that re- 
straint which the practice of her faith would have 
imposed upon her. 

Brought so near to eternity as she had been, her 
body, of which she had been so proud and vain, 
mutilated, one foot gone, and the other distorted 
by the breaking of certain muscles, Bessie Shaw’s 
thoughts were turned in upon herself ; remorse 
seized upon her, and she saw the enormity of her 
sins ; but when she learned that her life was saved 
that day by the little lame brother of Nora Kin- 
sella, whom she used to speak of and ridicule as 


218 


TWO WAYS. 


“hop-toad” — of that same Nora whom she had 
nearly killed — and that those who had sheltered, 
nursed and cared for her were the parents of Hester 
Milburn, whose reputation, by an unworthy trick 
she had nearly ruined, she was completely broken 
down, and felt there was but one way open for 
her, — repentance! Through Father Grayson, who 
heard her confession, she begged forgiveness of all 
she had tried to injure, and of the good nuns and 
her old companions for the bad example she had 
given. She made Father Grayson promise to do 
this publicly before them all, which he did, and 
improved the opportunity by saying a few words of 
warning against envy, worldliness, malice, and ly- 
ing, not sparing the sins of pride and vanity. All 
resentment and scorn died away in those young 
hearts who listened tearfully to Bessie's penitent 
messages; they thought of her only as suffering, 
and sorrowful for the past; she had made all the 
reparation she could, and there were none there who 
felt even an impulse to withhold either pity or for- 
giveness. It was a lesson that but few of them for- 
got. ******** 

We have reached our limits, and must soon add 
Finis. An esteemed friend, speaking of stories for 
young people, remarked, the other day, that “it was 
impossible to finish them up satisfactorily unless the 
various characters were all hilled off, which was not 
a desirable thing.” The juveniles have to be left to 
grow up to the climax of their lives, whatever it may 
be, consequently they get beyond the scope of ideas 
suitable for the youthful mind, because beyond its 
comprehension, But I will tell you this much : 


DENOUEMENT ! 


219 


Hester Milburn got the gold medal; and, with Annie 
Shirley, Madge Ward and a few others graduated 
splendidly, with the highest honors of the Academy; 
and in the beginning of the following year she car- 
ried out the aim of her life with the consent of her 
parents, who, at first, were naturally opposed to it; 
but respecting her motive, they at last gave way, 
and she received as resident pupils a select class of 
ten young girls, who kept her heart, hands, and 
head busy, and the old house full of young life for 
some four years; then — well, I might as well tell you 
— she actually married John Shirley, who had be- 
came a rising lawyer, and was in partnership with 
his father! and Maum Betsy holds up her head once 
more. 

Teddy Kinsella makes the most beautiful decora- 
tive designs for architects ever seen, and always has 
plenty of work. Nora, now a handsome young 
woman, is governess in Mrs. Ward’s family, where 
she is most kindly treated. Granny no longer goes 
to market, but lives on comfortably at “ Hill-farm,” 
on the earnings of her long years of indefatigable in- 
dustry. Teddy and Nora do not allow their mother 
to eat the bread of dependence, and granny spurts 
Irish at them for their pride, the English of which 
was that they were getting stuck up, and would go to 
old Scratch if they didn’t take care of themselves. 
The old red cloak may be seen any bright day out 
airing, and she has made them all promise to wrap it 
around her after she’s shrouded for her coffin; “ for 
who’ll care for it when I’m gone?” she says, sadly. 

Cousin Egbert, who, you remember. Jack Shirley 
looked upon as a sort of Molly Coddle, because he 


220 


TWO WAYS. 


parted his hair in the middle, always wore gloves, 
and was fastidious in person and manners, was a 
fine brave fellow, notwithstanding appearances were 
against him. He graduated and received his di- 
ploma, and went South to practise his profession; 
and when the city where he settled was ravaged by 
yellow fever, which more than decimated its popu- 
lation, cousin Egbert never flinched, but showed the 
full stature of a noble humanity by remaining, 
throughout the pestilence, the best friend that the 
destitute and friendless had, who never turned a 
deaf ear to the stricken, high or low; but gave his 
help, his skill, his money and time to them, day and 
night, until he at last sunk under his labors and the 
pestilence combined; sunk, but not to perish, for 
after a struggle of weeks, in which the chances of 
life and death were balanced by a hair, cousin Egbert 
opened his eyes once more, to see a bright October 
sun shining and the city released from the scourge. 
Honors and respect awaited him, the brave physi- 
cian, the young philanthropist, who had counted his 
life as nothing for his brethren; and to escape it all 
for a season, he came north to visit his aunt, Mrs. 
Shirley. When he returned home a fair young 
bride accompanied him, — Madge Ward, whom you 
remember. Thus you see, that, as in cousin Egbert's 
case appearances are deceptive, and hasty judgments 
are very often erroneous. 

With Bessie Shaw and Henriette de Conti, we may 
meet hereafter. 


TOM BOY. 


(pl\& klisits* JUj') 

~K>ve ANNA HANSON DORSEY, 

A u 

Author of “Adrift,” “The Flemmings,” “Coaina,” 
“Palms,” etc. 


THIRD THOUSAND. 


JOHN MURPHY COMPANY,. 


BALTIMORE, MD. : 
200 W. Lombard Street. 


NEW YORK: 
70 Fifth Avenue. 


Copyright, 1891, 

By ANNA HANSON DORSEY. 


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 


TOM-BOY 


CHAPTER I. 

A BRIGHT DAY AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

Two little girls were at play in a large, well kept 
garden. A fine old cherry tree surrounded by a 
mound of grass-covered earth was in the centre; it 
was full of red-ripe fruit which glowed, and shone 
among the dark-green leaves in the most tempting 
manner. There were also peach, apricot, and 
apple trees growing about here and there, their 
beautiful fruits slowly ripening in the sun; there 
were vines trained against the garden walls loaded 
with great English raspberries, yellow and red; on a 
sunny slope there was a large strawberry bed whose 
clusters of white blossoms, crimson berries and 
green leaves, made it lovely to look upon; then 
there were vegetables without end, long orderly 
rows of onions looking as if they were there on 
parade; cabbage plants which still held the dew in 
crinkles of their leaves where it shone like drops of 
quicksilver; sweet potato rows just throwing out 
their ivy-like vines; there was lettuce in many 
beautiful varieties; young corn danced and fluttered 
in the wind and long lines of beans, full of pink 
and white blossoms, wound themselves in graceful 


4 


TOM-BOY. 


festoons around tall poles, but the grandest of all 
was a large patch of peas growing in stately rows 
over the lattice frames set for them to run upon, 
which formed long green alleys, in which the 
girls were playing hide and seek, while their dolls, 
their toy tea-cups and saucers were left upon the 
grass mound under the cherry tree, the dolls sitting 
primly in their chairs dressed in their very best, and 
the china arranged upon a small nursery table which 
nurse had lent for the occasion, with a plate of sponge 
cake at the head and a plate of biscuit at the foot. 

The two girls had pretended they were going to 
market to buy fruit for their party, but they forgot 
all about it in the delight of racing through the 
green alleys of the pea-patch, until the old gardener 
unexpectedly came along and scolded them roundly 
for tearing down the vines, which were the pride of 
his heart. But seeing that much mischief was not 
done, and afraid that he might have hurt their 
feelings, he filled two cabbage leaves with fine large 
strawberries for each of them, and told them they 
might pull some pinks and roses for their bab}’-dolls, 
but not to lay a finger on the green fruit, or run 
over his vegetables. Then they went back to the 
cherry tree to have a party. 

One of these children was the only daughter of 
Mr. and Mrs. Machen, in whose garden we find 
them; the other was a little Quaker girl whose 
parents were spending the day with them. Gay 
Machen was about eight years old; she had blonde 
hair which was never smooth five minutes at a time; 
she had a freckled face, was full of life and health, 
and was as wild as a March hare. She was untidy 


A B BIGHT DAY AND WHAT CAME OF IT. h 

too, as you might see from her fine cambric dress 
which was new a short time ago, but was now torn 
in twenty places; the gathers ripped, and the but- 
tons burst off, while it hung loose from her plump 
shoulders in consequence of her having just broken 
the string in her attempt to jump over the wheel-bar- 
row. She had been turned out of the nursery that 
morning whole and clean, but three or four hours of 
play in the garden, and her great desire that her 
company should have a good time, which incited 
her to extraordinary exertions, reduced her to the 
state in which we see her. But Gay's dress never 
troubled her except when she was obliged to sit 
still before going out with mother or nurse, for fear 
she would not be fit to be seen when they started; 
then she would fume and fidget and wish she was 
like the chickens whose dress grows on them and 
gives them no trouble. 

The other child was older than Gay, and in every 
respect a contrast to her. She was tall of her age, 
her sober gray dress was made high in the neck, 
with tight sleeves, narrow skirt and finished off 
with a prim little white collar and cuffs to corre- 
spond; while her light brown hair was so sleek and 
smooth, and so evenly parted, that it looked as if it 
were gummed to her head. Her face was fair and 
placid, her eyes large and blue, and her rosy mouth 
always looked as if she had just said either 
“prune" or “prisms." But she had play in her 
too, and had so far enjoyed Gay's efforts to amuse 
and entertain her, but she could not help thinking 
all the time that she was “the funniest girl she 
ever saw in her life." 


6 


TOM-BOY. 


“You cap the strawberries, Ruth Walton; I’m 
going up for some cherries.” 

“Up! where?” 

“Up the cherry-tree; how else am I to get 
them?” 

“ Does thee climb? ” 

“ Of course I climb.” 

“Does thy mother let thee? ” 

“Not- if she sees me; but here, give me a push; 
I must have cherries to make tea and coffee, and 
mix with the strawberries for lemonade.” 

In another moment Gray had thrown her sun- 
burnt arms around the tree, stuck her feet against 
the knotty bark, and with Ruth Walton’s help 
swarmed up until she could reach a stout bough, 
where she swung herself higher and perched her- 
self in a crotch between several diverging limbs to 
rest; but at this moment of triumph and glee one of 
her shoes dropped off and fell right into Ruth 
Walton’s lap. 

“I didn’t throw it, I declare I didn’t, it fell off, 
Ruth,” said Gay, laughing. 

“Thee is a rude girl. Look at the dirt on my 
dress! ” 

“Oh pshaw! that’ll all wash out, never mind. I 
told you I didn’t mean to do it, and I don’t care, so 
there.” 

Then there was a great rustling of leaves, and a 
snapping of twigs overhead, with a sound of 
scrambling, and when Ruth Walton looked up, 
Gay was nowhere to be seen: she was in the very 
top of the tree, hidden out of sight by the thick 
foliage. Then came a prolonged whistle, loud and 


A BRIGHT DAY AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 7 


clear, followed by chirps, and trills, and warbling 
and twitterings, until Ruth thought all the birds in 
the world must be congregated there for a concert; 
then the bird notes were silent for an instant and 
Yankee-Doodle rang out upon the air like a fife on 
muster-day. 

“I wonder if it can be that strange girl making 
such sounds?” thought Ruth, looking up to see 
where she was. 

“ Look out now, Fm going to throw down some 
cherries; get out of the way,” shouted Gay from the 
tree-top. 

“ They'll all be mashed if thee throws them 
down.” 

“No, they wont; I do it every day. Move away, 
for if they fall upon your head they'll mash sure 
enough, and you'll look like raw head-and-bloody- 
bones. Now for it! ” 

Down they came like a shower of rubies, singly, 
in bunches, and clustering on short twigs loaded 
with the lovely morello cherries, and looked so 
beautiful scattered about on the velvety grass that 
it was almost a pity to pick them up. The sight 
restored Ruth Walton's good humor, for she dearly 
loved all kinds of fruit, in which — there being no 
law in the Society of Friends against it — she was 
like other children. 

Having gathered as many as she thought would 
do, Gay came down scrambling, swinging, laughing, 
and finally, hanging by her hands from a bough she 
dropped at least six feet almost upon Ruth Walton's 
head. Her dress was stained from neck to hem, 
and torn beyond repair, but she tucked it up some- 


8 


TOM-BOY. 


how, and called upon Ruth to admire the beautiful 
color-stains all over it. Then she directed her 
companion to stem the cherries while she made the 
tea and coffee; which she proceeded to do by a pro- 
cess unknown to the culinary world, by taking her 
largest doll's apron and filling it with cherries, and 
squeezing them between her hands until the juice 
ran freely, and filled up the china coffee pot, and 
tea-pot to the brim. Then she ran to the fountain 
near by and half filled the small glass pitcher and 
her silver mug with sparkling water, after which 
she squeezed strawberry and cherry juice together 
into them, and sweetened it with loaf sugar. Straw- 
berries were capped and heaped up in one cabbage 
leaf; another was filled with cherries, and Gay stuck 
some rose buds and pinks about over them; the cake 
and biscuit were symmetrically arranged, sugar was 
put into the cups and all was ready. Gay told Ruth 
to sit at the foot of. the table, and having arranged 
her four dolls on each side, she took her station at 
the head to pour out. Everything was found to be 
very nice, particularly the lemonade, which Gay had 
brewed by mixing the cherry and strawberry juice 
together. They pretended to treat the dolls with 
great ceremony, helping them first to everything 
and pressing them to take more. 

“ That's a very pretty mug thee has; is it real 
silver?" 

“ Real, solid silver. Mamma had to get it for me, 
and she makes nurse put it in her pocket whenever 
she takes me out." 

“ For what?" 

“ I used to bite a piece out of all the goblets I 


A BRIGHT BAY ANB WHAT CAME OF IT. 9 


drank out of; and wherever I went I was sure to get 
thirsty and ask for a drink of water, ” said Gay, 
laughing. 

“ Is thee telling the truth?” 

“Ask marmha. Pm not allowed to drink out of 
a goblet yet.” 

“What made thee do it?” 

“ I don't know. I couldn't help it. As soon as 
ever I'd get the rim of the goblet in my mouth, my 
teeth would come down like a steel trap upon the 
glass and scallop a piece right out.* But come, run, 
the party's over, and I'm afraid my children will be 
ill to-night, for there's not a crumb left upon, the 
table,” said Gay, laughing. “There's the wheel- 
barrow, don't you want to ride? ” 

“ Yes, but how?” 

“ Get in the wheelbarrow and I'll show you, ” 
said Gay. 

Ruth brushed the dust out of the barrow with her 
pocket handkerchief, and got in, tucking her clothes 
carefully around her, and Gay seized the handles 
and lifted them. 

“ Don't thee let me fall! ” 

“I'll be sure to upset you; no, I wont. Now 
we’re off,” said Gay, running the wheelbarrow 
before her over the smoothly rolled garden walks, 
at a spanking rate, while Ruth held on to each side, 
almost breathless, and expecting every instant to be 

* This was really true, and I may as well say just here 
that Tom-Boy was a real little girl whom I knew very well 
and that all I tell of her, and the things she did and 
said, and thought, with the various scrapes she got into, 
are facts. 


10 


TOM-BOY. 


upset. But this was fun that required more wind 
than Gay Machen had at command, strong and 
muscular beyond her years as she was; she felt her- 
self giving out, and. dropped the handles with a 
sudden jolt that made Ruth bounce, 'declaring that 
she was too tired to play horse any longer. 

“Let's sit here in the shade, and I'll tell you a 
story! " 

“ Tell me what? I won't play if thee tells stories, " 
said Ruth, gravely. 

“Well, a Fairy tale, if that will suit you any bet- 
ter," said. Gay, who was very good-humored. 

“ What is it about? " 

“ About our rooster, and our boy Dick who went 
down into the sewer to look for him, for you know 
Sultan, that's the rooster, in some stupid way got 
into the sewer, and papa didn't want to lose him, 
so the gardener tied a long, long rope around Dick 
and let him down into it." 

“ Did he get the rooster?" 

“ No, not all at once, but he was there and 
flapped his wings and crowed as soon as ever he saw 
Dick, and when Dick tried to catch him he flew 
away down the dark sewer out of sight, " said Gay, 
pushing her thick curly hair off her flushed cheeks, 
and tucking it behind her ears; and now you could 
see that she had fine, intelligent eyes, almost hand- 
some, and that there was a far away look in them 
quite different from their ordinary expression. 

“ But," she continued, “Dick kept him in sight 
until he saw a great blazing, shining light far down 
the sewer, and when he got to it, he saw that it was 
a tremendous cave all paved with gold and hung 


A BRIGHT DAY AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 11 


round with diamonds and pop-corn. And there 
were beautiful trees of mint candy, and there were 
some that had cocoanut candy, and almonds and 
raisins, and taffy growing upon them; and the 
tables were rtiade out of ice-cream, and there were 
pies, and tarts, and cakes of all sorts, set about in 
the most beautiful gold baskets. And there were 
doll babies in spangled dresses and the loveliest 
things fit only for queens, that you ever laid your 
eyes on, and it all glittered and sparkled like the 
trees do in winter when the ice is on them, only 
ten thousand times brighter. And presently the 
rooster ran out of another cave behind the first one 
chased by the queen of the Fairies and all her 
court, for this was her palace, and the rooster had 
gone in there crowing with such an awful voice that 
they thought the wicked ogre had come to eat them 
up, but when they saw it was only a chicken, they 
drove him out, and some of the Fairy boys were 
perched upon his back between his wings which 
scared him almost into fits, and, he run right into 
Dick’s hands, then everything got dark, and Dick 
says he heard the river a rolling over the sewer or 
wherever it was he had got, and he ran for fear he’d 
be devoured — ” 

“ Here Gay paused to take breath, and fully 
expected that Ruth, who had been listening, and 
staring at her with distended eyes as she related the 
adventure of Dick and the rooster, would go off into 
an ecstasy of admiration, but instead of that the 
quiet Quaker girl, who had never heard so wild a 
fiction in all her life, put on a severe look and 
said: 


12 


TOM-BOY. 


“I believe thee lies! ” 

Gay Machen started, grew red, her eyes flashed 
and, lifting her hand, she dealt a sudden and re- 
sounding slap on Ruth’s cheeks, first one, then the 
other. 

“ I never told a lie in all my life, you wicked 
girl!” she screamed; “and it is true, every word of 
it; I saw it myself.” 

But Ruth’s screams brought the servants to the 
rescue, and frightened, hurt and angry she ran into 
the drawing-room and threw herself weeping on her 
mother’s lap. Gay marched in after her, flushed 
and furious, arid for a few moments there was con- 
fusion and uproar. 

“What is the meaning of this. Gay ? What is 
the matter with Ruth ? ” asked Mrs. Machen. 

“I slapped her face, mamma!” was the honest 
reply. 

“ Oh, Gay ! Slapped her ! I’m ashamed of 
you.” 

“She said I told, a lie, and you know, mamma, I 
never told one in my life.” 

“Excuse me, friend Walton, I fear my daughter 
has been very rude ; I will be back presently. Come 
with me, Gay.” 

Mrs. Machen led Gay upstairs into her bedroom, 
and having closed the door sat down, and bidding 
her stand in front of her, requested her to explain 
how so mortifying a thing had happened. Gay 
related everything, including the Fairy tale, which 
was new to Mrs. Machen, and ended by saying : 

“And then after all, mamma, she told me that 
she believed I lied.” 


A BRIGHT BAY ANB WHAT CAME OF IT. IS 


“That was not polite certainly, but you should 
not have forgotten that Ruth was your guest, and 
had probably never heard of a fairy in her life. 
You should not have told it to her for true, or said 
you saw it all, for you do not see these things; I 
have told you so often and often,” said her mother, 
with a troubled expression of countenance. 

“ But I do, mamma ! I do see them ; they come to 
me and I see them plain.” 

“You must stay in your room the rest of the day, 
Gay. I am ashamed of you ; you grieve me half to 
death. Just look at your clothes. Who would sup- 
pose that you were a lady's child ! And then to go 
and strike a little girl who came to see you ! I feel 
as if I couldn’t look friend Walton in the face when 
I go down.” 

“ But I didn't tell a lie, mamma, and she had 
no right to say I did,” said the child, looking 
down. 

Mrs. Machen sighed ; there was an expression of 
mingled sadness and displeasure in her countenance, 
for in truth this child of hers gave her trouble 
beyond endurance by her odd ways, trouble too 
which she did not know how to deal with, for under 
all her strange peculiarities, there was really noth- 
ing bad, she was only a Tom-boy. 

“ But, Gay, you cannot expect any one to believe 
that you really see such things as you talk about. 
If you see them why should not other people see 
them also ? ” 

“ I don't know, mamma, but I do see all that I 
talk about; I don't know how it is, but I see them 
inside of my eyes,” said Gay, with great earnestness. 


14 


TOM-BOY. 


“Oh!” said Mrs. Machen, more than ever puz- 
zled. 

“And, mamma, look here, Fm sorry I slapped 
Ruth Walton, but Fm — Fd — Fm afraid Fd go and do 
it again if she was to tell me she believed I lied ; so I 
never want to see her anymore as long as ever I 
live. Now, mamma, please kiss me ?” 

“I cannot kiss you now, Gay. I feel displeased 
with you for behaving so rudely to our guest. The 
Arabs know better than that. And you are so wild, 
you are not a nice child ; you hurt me, and mortify 
me by your ways, which are unbecoming to a little 
lady,” replied Mrs. Machen, going out, and leaving 
the grieved child to her own sad reflections. Defiant 
as well as sad, for she couldn't make it plain to her- 
self, however she looked at it, that she had told a 
lie; or that she had not administered strict justice 
when she slapped Ruth Walton. She was only sorry 
for having done so because she saw how it pained 
her mother, whom she dearly loved ; and she could 
not help feeling that she was unjustly punished. 
But she comforted herself with thinking that when 
Dave and Charley and Tom came home from school, 
they would come to look for her, and hear all about 
it, and tell her she had done just right. She knew 
how it would be, for these three brothers of hers were 
her aiders and abettors in all sorts of mischief, and 
ever took the greatest delight in listening to her queer 
stories of elf-land ; they taught her all their games, 
and really infused into her such a love for boyish 
sports, that she was their comrade and good fellow. 
She counted on their sympathy at least, but, alas ! 
they were not allowed to come up to her, and when 


A BRIGHT DAY AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 15 


she heard them laughing and shouting and playing 
ball out in the grounds, and heard the birds twitter- 
ing, and saw the swallows darting about in the 
golden sunset, and smelled the roses and cape jessa- 
mine, and she up there in solitary confinement, with 
her mother angry, she felt miserably and sat down 
in a dark corner and cried. 

The next morning was bright and beautiful. 
The heavy dews of the night glistened on every leaf, 
and the sun lit up the dew-drops, until you might 
have counted every color of the rainbow in them ; 
the birds seemed wild with glee, and the south wind, 
sweet with the fragrance of flowers, rustled the vines 
with a fluttering movement, and a pleasant, tremu- 
lous sound. Gay opened her eyes on all the bright 
trees, and her heart expanded in inexpressible delight 
as she sat up in bed looking through the open win- 
dow. She would take her dolls, she thought, and 
make a nice baby house for them under the big 
lilacs ; after which she would work her own little 
garden, and ask the gardener for some young lettuce 
and cauliflower plants to set in the beds. She knew 
it must need weeding and watering, for she had not 
been there for three whole days ; and she intended 
to put everything in nice order and do her best not 
to tear or soil her dress, so that her mother would 
# see that she was trying to be good. 

Such thoughts as these were running through 
Gay's mind when nurse came in and told her to get 
up, and come right into the bath-room. 

“You needn't be so cross about it then!" said 
Gay, firing up. 

“ You come 'long now. When little gals is Tom- 


16 


TOM-BOY . 


boys, they mustn't 'spect folks to treat 'em like 
ladies,” said Aunt Winny, the old brown nurse, 
who had taken care of Mrs. Machen in her infancy, 
and as we say in the south-land, raised all of her chil- 
dren. So Aunt Winny was an established institution 
in the Machen family, and a power also, whose edicts 
were rarely disputed. 

After her bath, Gay saw to her infinite disgust, a 
new pink gingham dress, and a linen apron with the 
ruffles all plaited, laid out for her to put on ; and 
there was also a long piece of black velvet ribbon, 
the use of which she could not guess. 

“I do wish you'd put on one of my old faded 
frocks, Aunt Winny,” she said. 

“ I has my orders, chile, and dese here things is to 
go on, so thar's no use puttin' on a'rs ! " 

Gay knew that and submitted, but by no means 
with a good grace. She felt that something was 
going to happen that she would not like ; she never 
could bear to put on a new dress ; she not only felt 
trammelled and bound by it, but it scratched her 
neck and arms, and was always too tight somewhere 
or other for her comfort. Having dressed, with 
Aunt Winny's assistance, Gay now discovered what 
the velvet was for, as nurse combed back her thick 
hair from her forehead, brushing it vigorously down 
until it lay smooth, then bound the velvet ribbon 
tight around her head and tied it in a neat bow 
with ends, on the left side. 

“Now you looks sumpin' like!” said Aunt 
Winny, surveying her with great complacency. 

“It's horrid. I wish I was Daddy Coyle's daugh- 
ter so that I'd never have to be dressed up, but play 


A BRIGHT DAY AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 17 


out all day, and paddle in the mud barefooted with 
the ducks,” burst out Gay. 

“ But you isn’t Daddy Coyle’s daughter. Now 
you go down, honey, to your ma, ’cause she’s waitin’ 
for you,” said Aunt Winny, shaking her fat sides 
laughing, as Gay flounced out of the room. 

Mrs. Machen held out her hand when Gay entered 
the pleasant breakfast room, and drawing her to her 
breast, kissed her, saying : 

“ How very nice my little woman looks this morn- 
ing ! ” 

There was an assurance of love and forgiveness in 
this tender greeting which went straight to the 
child’s heart, and she embraced her mother, resolved 
never to do anything that might grieve or displease 
her again — if she could help it ! A wise proviso to 
add, for poor little Tom-boy had a nature as wild as 
a kitten’s, and impulsive as a bird’s, which cost her 
many an after struggle before it was tamed ; which 
we may as well say now, never was entirely tamed, 
but she got a master-hand over it in time that 
proved quite satisfactory. 

It turned out to be the most miserable day that 
Gay had ever spent in her life. She didn’t mind 
wiping the silver spoons and forks for her mother 
after breakfast, for Mrs. Machen always washed her 
«glass, silver, and tea-china herself ; nor did she 
. mind going through the house with her, into every 
room, to every closet and wardrobe, to see that 
everything was in order, and she was rather pleased 
when she was told that they were to go shopping, 
for Gay was fond of horses, and she heard that they 
would go down-town in the carriage. But the close 


18 


TOM-BOY. 


air of the drygoods store where her mother made her 
purchases oppressed her, and she wondered people 
did not die outright living behind counters and 
turning over goods all the year round. 

After they got home Mrs. Machen opened a bun- 
dle, and unfolded a dozen linen pocket handker- 
chiefs she had bought for the three boys, Dave, 
Charley, and Tom, which she told Gay she wanted 
her to hem for them. 

“I will turn the hems down, darling, and begin 
them for you if you wish me to. And here is a nice 
little gold thimble that belonged to me when I was 
your age. I think your brothers will be very proud 
to have their handkerchiefs hemmed by their sister. 
And now I think of it, they left their love for you 
when they all started with papa at six o’clock this 
morning to go fishing.” 

“ I wish I might have gone, too. Why didn’t you 
let me go, mamma?” said Gay, ready to cry. 

<f Because, my dear, I wish to break you of your 
wild, boyish habits, and I thought we might as well 
begin to-day. Here is a handkerchief ready, and 
needle and thread. Shall I begin it for you?” said 
Mrs. Machen gravely. 

“If you please, mamma. I hate to sew, but I’ll 
try. This is a beautiful little thimble,” said Gay, 
despondently, as she turned it round and round her 
finger. 

Then she began to sew and pricked her fingers 
until they bled, and although she tried her best to 
make small, even stitches, they looked like cat’s 
teeth. After sewing an hour or two she read to her 
mother, and took her lesson on the piano, but there 


A BRIGHT BAY AND WIIAT (JAMB OF IT. 19 


was no spirit in her fingers, although she clearly 
loved music, and her teacher rapped her knuckles, 
which made matters worse. And so the day wore 
on and she wished that her mother, instead of being 
kind and gentle with her, had punished her severely 
and been done with it, instead of making her stay in 
and do things all day that she hated, in a new, stiff 
dress. How she pined for the fresh air, the birds, 
the sunshine! and wondered if the weary, weary day 
would ever come to an end! She was miserable 
dressed up; miserable trying to be proper and girl- 
like, and miserable because she thought she would 
never be happy again if this went on. 

That night the child was sick with headache and 
fever. The restraint had been too great and sudden 
after the unrestricted liberty she had always en- 
joyed, and Mrs. Machen, quick to see that what she 
intended for her child’s best interests was neither 
judicious or kind for one of her temperament, was 
bewildered, uneasy, and perplexed, as to what plan 
she should adopt next for her improvement. Gay’s 
sickness, however, was only temporary; it was en- 
tirely the result of nervous excitement, which sleep 
and quiet relieved, and she appeared at the break- 
fast table as well as usual the following morning, 
and was permitted to go out and have a game of 
ball on the lawn with her brothers before they went 
to school. 


CHAPTER II. 


A LETTER — THE KITTENS. 

Mrs. Machen was very busy after breakfast, in 
tbe latticed veranda at the back of the house, seal- 
ing up and labeling her jars of preserved strawber- 
ries, when Mr. Maclien came out and inquired 
where Gay was ! 

“ I don't know, indeed ; she passed through here 
just now with her dolls. I expect she is in the gar- 
den." 

“ Good heavens, wife ! what is that striding about 
in the field there !" said Mr. Machen, who was a lit- 
tle weak sighted, looking towards a field which ad- 
joined his grounds. 

“That is Gay ! I do believe she is mounted on 
Dave's stilts. Oh, dear ! I don't know what I shall 
do with that child ! " said Mrs. Machen, perplexed 
and worried at this fresh outbreak. 

The stilts that Gay was striding about on raised 
her head about eight feet in the air. It had rained 
heavily the night before, and the ground being soft 
and spongy, she found it pretty hard work to make 
her way over it on stilts ; but she enjoyed the fun of 
it all the more, and tugged and laughed and strug- 
gled along, while her puppy ran barking distractedly 
around her. 

“ Indeed, my dear, you must try and civilize that 
child a little," said Mr. Machen. 


A LETTER— THE KITTENS. 21 

“1 am sure I try to, but it will take time. It is 
her nature to be so, and it is constantly cropping out 
in the most irrepressible way. I get dreadfully dis- 
heartened sometimes when she tears her clothes 
and gets herself full of mud. I can't keep her nice 
five minutes at a time unless I confine her to the 
house. I tried that yesterday and it made her ill. 
But there is comfort in knowing that she is truth- 
ful and upright in her principles, and I do hope as 
she grows older all this roughness will drop off 
itself, and she be like other people." 

“ I don't know. I hope so, I'm sure. I suppose 
it is partly the result of living and playing all the 
time with her brothers. I was in hopes when we 
got Teresa Gill for a companion and playmate for 
her that it would have tamed her a little," said Mr. 
Maehen. 

“They are too much alike," replied his wife. 
“They lead each other into mischief, and I have 
placed Teresa under Mammy Dozier's care to learn 
how to sew, and do light housework. But what in 
the world brought you from your office at this 
hour? " 

“Oh! I had quite forgotten," said Mr. Maehen, 
taking a letter out of his pocket. “ I came home 
to show you a letter I have just received; it is about 
a matter on which you will have to decide. But 
hadn't you better send for Gay to come out of that 
field?" 

“Oh no, let her be for the present. If I turn 
her loose in the garden she'll be climbing trees, or 
scrambling down the hill to the roof of Mother 
Gill's cottage. Do you know that is the way that 


22 


TOM-BOY. 


she and Teresa generally go to visit the old woman, 
entering through the garret window!" 

Mr. Machen looked worried; “but," then he 
thought, “Mother Gill is Teresa’s mother, and 
there's no real harm in it, but such doings must be 
stopped all the same. If Gay was to be a servant 
girl all her life, it would be a different matter. 
Wife," he said, addressing Mrs. Machen, “do you 
recollect Will Forsyth, about whom I used to talk 
so much? " 

“Yes, indeed. He married a relative of yours, 
did he not?" 

“Yes; a fourth or fifth cousin, and they settled 
in St. Augustine, near which Forsyth had a large 
plantation. We wrote to each other regularly for 
years, then somehow the correspondence slackened 
and finally dropped; now the poor fellow is dead. 
But here's the letter." 

“I am sorry to hear it, but tell me all about it, 
for my hands are both tied as it were, and this is 
work that can't wait." 

“ The news of years comes all in a heap in this 
letter, which poor Forsyth wrote with his own hand 
the week be^pre he died, but that which imme- 
diately concerns you is this. The Forsyths had sev- 
eral children, all of whom they lost except one lit- 
tle girl; and finally the wife died of the same com- 
plaint that carried them off, a rapid consumption, 
leaving this one child, who it seems inherits her 
mother's fragile constitution. Will's home was left 
desolate to him, and his decaying strength warned 
him that the malady which had deprived him of 
wife and children, was rapidly developing itself. 


A LETTER— THE KITTENS. 


23 


His greatest temporal concern was for the future 
well being of his child, Isabel, and don't you think 
that he has left the poor little thing to my care and 
guardianship, “ relying," he writes, “ upon our old 
friendship not to refuse my dying request. My 
troubled heart rests upon the hope that my or- 
phaned daughter will find tender parents in your 
dear wife and yourself.” Now, wife, what am I to 
do?” 

“ It will certainly be a heavy responsibility, 
Stephen,” replied Mrs. Machen, gravely, “but it is 
one, which it seems to me, we are bound to accept. 
One child more or less in a household like this, will 
not make much difference. But how old is she?” 

“I judge she is about ten years of age. But, 
wife, there's a difficulty in the way which I have not 
yet named,” said Mr. Machen, in a hesitating way. 

“ What's that? ” 

“The child is a Roman Catholic, and poor For- 
syth begs me with his dying breath to see that she 
is educated in that faith. You know, at least I 
think I have told you, that my mother was a Catho- 
lic, and I was baptized in my infancy by a Catholic 
priest, but I was only five years old when she died, 
and I was brought up in my uncle's family who 
professed no religion of any sort, and consequently 
I became a heathen like the rest of them, thinking 
as they did, that the whole duty of man consisted 
in fox hunting, racing and feasting. To eat, drink 
and be merry was the rule among us. For my own 
part, I'd just as leave the child should be raised a 
Catholic as anything else, if you don't care.” 

“I am unfortunate like yourself, Stephen, in 


24 


TOM-BOY. 


having no fixed belief, but I confess to a prejudice 
against Catholics. I couldn’t give the poor little 
girl any assistance there, even to take her to church 
where, of course, she’ll have to go — but,” added 
Mrs. Machen, after a thoughtful pause, “there’s 
Mammy Dozier; she goes regularly to her church, 
and no doubt she would be glad to take the child 
with her.” 

“ Thank you, wife; that is the very thing. You 
are so good at getting things out of a tangle. And 
now that I know you do not object to receiving the 
poor little girl, it occurs to me that she will be a 
nice companion for our Gay.” 

“That depends upon the sort of child she may 
i^rove to be,” said Mrs. Machen, gravely. “It is 
running a great risk to bring a strange child into a 
family. I have my fears that this little girl has 
been over-indulged and pampered on account of her 
ill health, and having only slaves around her to 
obey every beck and nod; and you know those 
Creole children have such fiery tempers! What 
should I do, husband, with an unmanageable, 
strange child, and that Tom-boy of ours in the 
house together?” 

“See here, wife, let us suspend judgment until 
she comes; it’s no use to lose courage beforehand. 
I know that however it may turn out, you will deal 
justly and kindly by the motherless girl.” 

“I will be a mother to her, Stephen, so help me 
God! if I find it possible. But have you to go for 
her?” 

“No. She is on her way here with a lady from 
Baltimore, who spent the winter at St. Augustine’s 


A LETTER— THE KITTENS. 


25 


for her health, and may arrive . at any moment. 
Where is Gay?” asked Mr. Machen, looking in the 
direction of the field. 

But Gay had disappeared, leaving one of the stilts 
sticking upright in the ground, the other lying 
beside it, and was at that very moment creeping 
over the moss grown roof of Mother Gill’s cottage, 
which was nearly level with Mr. Machen’s garden, 
and easily reached by a slope in the hill against 
which it was built, into the garret window where 
Teresa, who had been sent there on some errand, 
stood beckoning to her. They went down the 
rickety stairs together, through the kitchen, and 
out into the front yard where numerous sunflowers 
nodded their great golden heads in the sun, where 
hollyhocks bloomed resplendent, and where hop- 
vines, roses and morning glories were running riot 
over everything it was possible -for them to clamber 
over. A large hogshead of rain water stood under the 
spout at the corner of the house, and the multiflora 
roses hanging from the low eaves, were beautifully 
reflected in the dark, motionless water. The two 
girls clambered up, and peeping over saw themselves 
as plainly as if two elves had lifted up their faces to 
give them laugh for laugh. 

“ I’d like to jump in. It would only be up to my 
neck,” said Gay. 

“But don’t, Gay; it would be over your head and 
you’d drown. Stop, I’ll holler for mother; there she 
goes to the bee-hives,” cried Teresa, frightened half 
out of her senses. “Get down, that’s a good girl, 
and let’s find the kittens.” 

They found the innocent kittens basking under a 


26 


TOM-BOY. 


rosebush, and hauled them out; but they were so 
dirty and full of fleas that Gay proposed washing 
them in the rain hogshead, which they proceeded 
forthwith to do. Gay huddled them all together in 
her apron, where they mewed and struggled pitifully; 
then climbing upon some bricks that Teresa piled 
up for her to stand upon, she emptied them pell 
mell into the water. After a few struggling 
attempts to float, and some vigorous efforts on the 
part of the two girls to keep the miserable little 
animals from sinking by holding them by their 
tails, or legs, or feet, whichever came uppermost, 
the kittens yielded to their fate and drowned. 
Going under, head downward so often proved too 
much, and they were drawn out by their scared 
executioners, and laid side by side upon the grass. 
Both girls were frightened. They had no idea 
their frolic would end like this, and they were at a 
perfect loss what to do. 

“ TheyTe dead sure enough. Let's bury them and 
run home/’ said Gay. 

“ Yes, let’s. I'll run up stairs and get some pieces 
to wrap them up in; they must have shrouds on you 
know to be buried in. You dig the graves right 
there, Gay." 

Gay soon scooped out five little shallow graves in 
the loose, sandy soil, with her strong brown hands, 
and by the time she finished, Teresa came back with 
a clean old pillow case which she tore apart, and 
wrapped each kitten in spotless white, after which 
they were buried, not very deep it is true, but they 
were covered up. Gay shaped nice little mounds 
with her hands over them and stuck a big rose at 


A LETTER— THE KITTENS. 


27 


the head of each grave, after which they thought 
they had better go back home. Taking off their 
shoes that they might creep through the house with- 
out Mother Gill hearing them, they slipped upstairs 
to return by the way they came, but just as Teresa 
got on the window sill Gay, who was preparing to 
follow her, shrieked, and began dancing about in the 
wildest manner. She had trod upon a bee, and it 
had stung the sole of her foot. Her cries brought 
up Mother Gill, a little dried up old woman, with 
great big black eyes, a hooked nose, and long chin 
exactly like Mother Hubbard's, her head surmounted 
by an old-country white cap, with a wide ruffle hang- 
ing down around her face. She began to scold them 
both sharply for being there, and boxed Teresa's ears 
before she asked what was the matter; and when she 
learned the cause of Gay's screams, she said: “It 
serves you right, miss, for your badness." Then she 
lifted Gay's foot upon her knee, and, on pulling off 
her stocking, she found a great swelled-up place al- 
most purple with inflammation. She put on her big 
horn spectacles, and pulled out the stinger of the 
bee; then she poured some sweet oil over a piece of 
raw cotton, and bound it over the place, and in a 
few minutes the pain was relieved. 

After that she went down and brought up a big 
slice of bread and butter with some honey in a plate 
which she set down in a chair before Gay and told 
her to eat it, that she was going straight up to tell 
Mrs. Machen about it. 

“ Oh please don't. Mother Gill. I always like to 
tell mamma things myself. I don't want you to tell 
her: indeed I don't," pleaded Gay. 


28 


TOM-BOY. 


“ If you promise never to come stealing in my 
garret window again I won't. You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself to be such a Tom-boy, and you 
a lady's child too." 

“ I never will, if you will only not go and tell 
mamma! " 

“And suppose I do go? " 

“ Then I won't promise anybody anything about 
it," said Gay, bursting into tears. 

“ Very well; I'll see now how you're to be trusted. 
I won't go; so eat your bread and honey," said 
Mother Gill, going down-stairs. 

“ Here, Teresa, here's half," said Gay, breaking 
the slice of bread in two pieces; “come and dip in 
the honey." Nothing loth, Teresa accepted the 
invitation, and, as they were both hungry, they 
left neither comb nor drop of honey upon the 
plate. 

“ Does your mother ever fly in the air on a broom- 
stick, Teresa," asked Gay, solemnly. 

“ I never saw her do it, but maybe she does." 

“ With a black cat behind? " 

“ What put that into your head. Gay? " 

“ Because she looks exactly like the old woman in 
my picture books who is riding up among the stars, 
on a broom-stick, to sweep the cobwebs out of the 
sky." 

“Goody gracious, does she? I'll ask her some 
day when she is in good humor. Here's that old bee 
lying stretched upon his back. Whew! what a tre- 
mendous fellow he is! look at his yaller legs, he's all 
dressed in velvet and silk. Don't you want him? 

“Yes, if he's dead. I'll take him home for a 


A LETTER— THE KITTENS. 


29 


trophy!” said Gay, highly delighted by the oppor- 
tunity offered her to use a word which she had 
found very difficult to spell in her lesson a few days 
before. “ Fll get a long needle and stick him up 
against the wall with my butterflies. But I didn't 
kill them you know; I found them dead one morning 
after a frost.” 

“We drowned the kittens though. I feel awful 
about that.” 

“ So do I, “ said Gay, with a look of trouble in her 
face. 

The girls went home, and the first thing Gay did 
was to go straight to her mother, who happened to be 
alone, and tell her the whole story about the kittens 
and all. Mrs. Machen reproved her and tried to im- 
press upon her mind how improper it was for a 
young girl to go clambering over roofs, ^nd striding 
about on stilts; and how cruel a thing it was for 
her to have drowned the harmless kittens, although 
she may have had no intention of doing so; still 
they were dead, and her sorrow could not restore the 
life she had destroyed. Gay was very sorry, and 
promised her mamma never to go to Mother Gill's 
again without permission and under no consideration 
to climb over the roof. 

“ Go up to Aunt Winnyand get your hair brushed 
and tied round with velvet as it was fixed yesterday; 
then tell her to give you a fresh dress and apron, j 
want you to come and sew a little while.” 

“ What’s the use of sewing, mamma?” exclaimed 
Gay, growing red. 

“ It teaches us to be patient, my dear. Come now, 
make haste, I shall be waiting for you.” 


30 


TOM- BOY. 


The next morning, on her way down stairs, Cay 
met Teresa coming up. 

“ Stop a minute. Gay,” she said. 

“I can't, the bell has rung.” 

“ Fve got something to tell you. It's about the 
kittens we drowned yesterday.” 

“ What about them?” asked Gay, stopping, eager 
to hear what was coming, for her heart had been 
sorely troubled about the kittens, and she had lain 
awake in the night thinking about them until she 
grew so sorry for the poor little things that she cried, 
knowing that it was a cruel act to have drowned 
them, although she was so intent on her fun at the 
time, that it had never once occurred to her then 
that it was wrong. “ What about the kittens?” 

“ I ran down to mammy’s this morning before any- 
body was ’up, and if you’ll believe me, the very 
first thing I seen, was them kittens alive and frisk- 
ing about in the sun. Bless you, I knowed they 
warn’t dead good, ’cause cats has nine lives.” 

“ How did they get out of their graves? ” inquired 
Gay, with quite an awed look. 

“ Scratched themselves out; it was nothing but 
sand you know, and I tell you they look as clean as 
daisies. Now I must run.” 

Gay was so delighted at this good news that she 
burst into the breakfast room, exclaiming: “Oh 
mamma! mamma! the kittens are all alive! ” Then 
the story came out, and the boys thought it fine fun 
and shouted over it, and Mr. Machen, although he 
tried to look grave found it no use, and laughed 
heartily. But the mother’s heart was troubled with 
the ever present perplexing thought: “ How is such 


A LETTER— THE KITTENS. 


31 


a child to be managed.” However, she said nothing 
to damp the merriment of her children, bnt tried to. 
look happy while she busied herself in preparing and 
distributing lunches to her three great wholesome, 
well grown boys, who clamored for more pie to be 
thrown in, until she threatened to give them none, 
if they were not quiet. 


CHAPTER III. 


ISABEL. 

Mrs. Machen turned over a new leaf with Gay. 
She saw that she must adopt some systematic rule 
with her and she wished to do it kindly, for she 
dearly loved her wild little daughter who, she saw, 
had fine traits under the incongruous elements of her 
character. Mrs. Machen was not at all sure either 
that these impulsive, restless manifestations in her 
child, which gave her so many anxious moments, 
were not the result of temperament, instead of 
character, so she felt it to he necessary to be on her 
guard and act prudently, for fear of- warping her 
disposition by wrong management. That she was to 
be brought under gentle but firm discipline, was the 
settled purpose of her parents, lest she should grow 
up to be a torment and grief to herself and to her 
best friends. 

Had Mrs. Machen been a Catholic mother she 
would have known that the first thing to be done 
was to lay a religious foundation in the child’s mind 
by such instructions as were adapted to her age, for 
the future development of her character; but as she 
unfortunately — to quote her own words — was pos- 
sessed of no fixed religious principles, she ruled her 
conduct in the matter simply according to her 
moral lights, and by what was usual in the social 
circle. 


ISABEL. 


33 


And so Gay was made to understand that, in 
addition to her lessons, she was to sew an hour 
every day! The lessons she rather liked; she was 
always learning something new in them, and it was 
no labor for her to study them; but to sit down 
every day of her life, except Sunday, sticking a 
sharp little needle in-and-out, in-and-out, hemming 
a roll of ruffling, about a hundred yards long, until 
she got into such a fever and fume, that she pricked 
her fingers, got her thread into knots and tangles, 
and drew her stitches up in such a pucker, that her 
mamma would be obliged to make her pick them 
out and do her work over again; and all the birds 
calling her with their songs, the winds whispering 
pleasant things to her; the sun sparkling over 
everything, and the leaves beckoning her to come! 
Could anything have been more wearisome to her 
than her task? 

But Mrs. Machen was firm; when she once laid 
down a law in the household, her children and ser- 
vants knew there was no appeal by which it was 
to be evaded, nor did they ever attempt to do 
so, for they knew that she was as kind as she was 
just. She pitied the poor little Tom-boy, for she 
knew how irksome sewing was to her, but she 
seemed not to notice, and while' she plied her own 
busy needle, tried to make Gay's task less wearisome 
by relating some agreeable little story, or narrating 
occasionally some stirring and romantic event from 
history. But all these affectionate wiles had not 
the power for a single moment to resign Gay to her 
task of hemming ruffles. She could not see what 
her mamma could ever want with so much ruffling 


34 


TOM-BOY. 


when it was finished, if it ever should be, for she 
had a fear that she would certainly die of hemming 
before she got to the other end of that great roll. 
One day, very tired and hot, she happened to raise 
her eyes and saw herself reflected in the long mirror 
between the windows. She looked steadily at her- 
self for a moment or two, and thought how very 
dark her eyelashes and eyebrows were; she had 
never noticed them before. Her mamma’s scissors 
lay temptingly on her lap, and the strange idea 
struck her to cut her eyebrows and eyelashes close 
off, just to see how pretty it would make her look. 
It was the work of a minute, and, when Mrs. Maclien 
turned from her work-table to ask Gay for her 
scissors, she was just clipping off the last eyelash. 

“Good heavens, child! what have you done to 
yourself ?” exclaimed Mrs. Maclien, shocked at the 
appearance of Gay’s face, now without eyebrows or 
eyelashes. Never pretty at the best of times, she 
looked simply frightful. 

“What did you do that for. Gay Maclien?” 

“Nothing, mamma. I was so tired; then I 
thought how funny I’d look if I cut them off, and 
how Dave and the boys would laugh when they saw 
me! Was it wrong, mamma?” 

Was it wrong! There was the rub in all of Tom- 
boy’s pranks! What was there essentially wrong in 
this last freak? Nothing. She had shaved off her 
eyebrows and eyelashes, and made a fright of her- 
self; that was all; hers all the mortifying conse- 
quences of her folly, whatever shape they might 
assume. 

“I think you will be disappointed, you tiresome 


ISABEL. 


35 


child, about their laughing; they will be ashamed of 
you, and angry at your having made such a fright 
of yourself,” said Mrs. Maclien, quite bewildered as 
to how the affair should be treated. 

“Won't they grow again, mamma? ” asked Gay, 
rather uneasily. 

“ I don’t know, indeed. I never saw or heard of 
such a thing being done in my life before. But 
grow or not, I fear you will have inflamed eyes, now 
that you have nothing to protect them from the 
glare of light, and the dust; then you will have to 
be shut up for weeks in a dark room, and have the 
doctor giving you all sorts of disagreeable medicines, 
you mischievous child!” answered her mother in a 
displeased voice. 

“Shut up in a dark room for weeks!” thought 
Gay, in speechless dread. “ It already smothers me 
to think of it. And it’s all on account of this hor- 
rid, tiresome hemming. If I had been out under 
the lilacs, I never should have thought of doing 
such a thing. Oh my! it will kill me to be shut up 
in the dark! ” 

She was more sorry than she had ever been in her 
life; not sorry for having made such an object of 
l^erself, but on account of what might follow. She 
didn’t care a snap about looking so ugly — (south of 
New England this word expresses something dis- 
agreeably the reverse of pretty). People, seeing how 
careless and wild she was, never made any ceremony 
about saying how ill-favored she was, in her very 
presence; and “what a pity she was so freckled;” 
and “did you ever see such an awkward girl in your 
life?” but none of these back-handed compliments 


36 


TOM-BOY. 


ever hurt her in the least, until one evening when 
she was sitting cuddled up in the window behind 
the curtains, straining her eyes over a picture book 
some one had given her, she heard her uncle, the 
Commissioner of Indian Affairs, say to a lady: “ I 
am always sorry when I come home from my long 
western journeys to find that Gay has not gone to 
heaven; she is so extremely ill-favored it makes me 
sorry for her.” Gay’s heart swelled with pain and 
anger, and the moment that the company left the 
drawing room to go in to tea, she flitted up into her 
dark room, and, throwing herself upon the floor, 
cried herself to sleep. But the hurt was all healed 
by a refreshing night’s sleep and the bright sun- 
shine that danced through her windows the next 
morning; and an after visit of three days to her 
uncle’s beautiful country seat, “Westlake,” obliter- 
ated the sting, although the speech was never for- 
gotten, for it had not touched her vanity, poor Tom- 
boy not having the first inkling of that quality, but 
it ha*d cut right into her heart to think that her 
uncle, whom she almost worshipped, wanted her to 
die just because she wasn’t pretty. 

This day was an era to be remembered in Gay 
Machen’s life. The whole household, from her 
father down to Therese and the cook, including her 
brothers, made such a fuss about the way in which 
she had disfigured herself, and “oil’d ” and “ah’d ” 
so disagreeably whenever she came where any of 
them were, that by bedtime she felt like a hunted 
hare, and was in such a state of exasperation, that 
she told Therese confidentially that “ she had a 
great mind to cut her nose off,” which so alarmed 


ISABEL. 


37 


the young woman, that she gathered up all the 
scissors that were lying around, and locked them 
up in her drawer. 

Gay did not feel anything unusual about her eyes 
when she first opened them after a night's sound 
sleep, and she thought there had been a big fuss 
made about nothing, and that she need have no 
further dread about being shut up for weeks in a 
dark room-, but when she looked at herself in the 
glass, a thing she seldom did, her face looked so 
strange and comical that she involuntarily turned 
round to see if there was not some one looking over 
her shoulder. Then she laughed, and ran down to 
breakfast. Orders had been given that no further 
notice should be taken of the matter, so nothing 
was said, and the boys chatted away as usual about 
their lessons, their fights and games with their 
father and mother; but Gay saw Dave's eyes twink- 
ling full of fun at her from over the edge of his big 
cup, and Tom watched his opportunity to pull the 
corners of his eyes back so far towards his temples 
that they looked like two black button-holes, where- 
upon Gay found that they were not angry with her 
any way for what she had done. 

“ I am very sorry, my dear, that you have dis- 
figured yourself in this way," said Mrs. Machen, 
when she and Gay were alone; “ Isabel Forsyth, 
about whom I was telling you, is expected to-mor- 
row, and I really don't know what she will think of 
your appearance." 

“Well, but, mamma, I can be kind to her, 
and let her play with my things all the same, 
so she won't mind," answered Gay, her eyes 


38 


TOM-BOY. 


blinking quickly as if the light made them 
smart. 

“Do your eyes hurt you, Gay?” asked her 
mamma, uneasily. 

“No, mamma, there’s only a little sand, got into 
them, I reckon.” 

“ It is not sand, you unfortunate child,” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Machen, after examining her eyes. 
“ I must stop everything and make a green shade 
for your eyes, else they will be dreadfully inflamed 
before noon, they are quite red on the edges now. 
Oh dear! dear! ” 

The shade was made, a pasteboard one covered 
with green silk; anything rather than weeks upon 
weeks in a dark room, so Gay submitted to having 
it tied on, feeling all the more whiling to wear it, as 
in a few minutes after it was placed over her eyes 
it seemed to take the sand out of them. 

“Now, I hope that will prevent all trouble, but 
you must be careful to keep it on, my dear.” 

“ I will, mamma; thank you.” 

“We are going across the river to-day; should 
you like to go? ” 

“ Oh, mamma, may I go?” 

“Yes; the boys have holiday this afternoon, and 
papa is going w r ith us,” said Mrs. Machen, glad of 
an excuse, on account of Gay’s eyes, to dispense 
with the hemming to-day. 

“Oh, what a time we shall have; and, mamma, 
do you think the young chickens, and ducks, and 
little goslings are hatched yet?” 

“Yes; there are several broods of them, old 
Aunt Sukey told me this morning.” 


ISABEL . 


39 


“ Oh, the dear, downy, soft, little yellow things; 
how I do love to hold them in my hand and watch 
their bright little eyes, and hear them chirping!” 

“They are pretty little things,” said her mamma, 
amused at her enthusiasm; “ and I like to hold 
them cuddled up in my hand, too. But come now, 
help me to get out luncheon packed, for we shall 
not be back until late, and the boys are always 
hungry.” 

“Yes, mamma, they eat like the giants that Tom 
Thumb killed,” said Gay, laughing merrily out of 
pure light-lieartedness at the idea of the picnic at 
“ Tanglebrake,” Mr. Machen’s farm, which lay on 
the other side of the river; then she fell to with a 
will, doing all she could to assist her mother to 
pack the two baskets with cold chicken, ham and 
pickles, bread and butter, boiled tongue, gooseberry 
tarts, and crackers and cheese, which Mammy 
Dozier and the cook brought in. 

Gay’s anticipations of enjoyment were in no respect- 
disappointed; in fact, the reality rather exceeded 
her expectations than otherwise. Everything en- 
chanted her — the sail across the sun-bright river; 
the long rows of willows dipping their long delicate 
sprays into the tide; the broods of young chickens 
that were “ cheeping” about the lawn after their 
proud, clucking mothers; of little ducklings just 
out of the shell, waddling through the rich grass, 
thinking it was a very pleasant world they had 
come to, as they followed the old ducks, who looked 
proud, and solemn, and full of responsibility; the 
young goslings, yellow and downy, with brown spots 
over their coats, their bills and feet red, and their 


40 


TOM-BOY . 


eyes as bright as bright could be, trooping after 
their snow-white mothers under the convoy of some 
old sage of a gander, who strutted about around 
them with fierce vigilance, cutting off all approach 
and hissing if any one came near them, like a loco- 
motive! It was enchanting! It was enough to 
stand and watch the manoeuvres of these feathered 
tribes; and the beautiful scorn of the great peacock 
who kept to himself his magnificent tail spread to 
the sun, glittering with thousands of spots of blue, 
gold and green, which looked like jewels, his grace- 
ful head crowned with a cluster of delicate feathers, 
and his breast shining like a golden helmet! He 
was handsome to look at, but Gay did not like him 
as she did the other fowls, he was so proud and 
scornful, and made such a fearful squawking when- 
ever he attempted to speak or sing. But she had 
been in one place long enough, and she thought she 
would go to the old pear tree and climb up to pay 
the crows a visit. Mrs. Machen was down in the 
glen in the dairy with the dairy maid, and if Gay 
thought of the matter at all, she settled it by some 
species, of logic peculiar to herself that her mamma 
would not be displeased with her for climbing a tree, 
because she was on this side of the river. Over 
there — at home — she would not have done it, be- 
cause she had promised not to. But now she was 
clambering up like a squirrel to the topmost boughs 
where a family of crows had lived from time im- 
memorial. Nobody living could tell how old the 
pear tree was, or how long the crows had lived in 
the top of it; but this did not trouble Gay, she and 
the crows were great friends, and now it was fine 


ISABEL. 


41 


fun to peep into their nests, and hear the row made 
by the baby-crows screaming and cawing for grubs 
and worms. Gay laughed at their wide-open 
mouths and yellow tongues, and thought they 
might easily swallow each other, they extended 
their bills so widely apart. But her visit to the 
crows was cut short by hearing a peal of thunder, 
and, parting the boughs with her hands, as she sat 
perched on a strong limb, Gay looked up and saw 
that a storm was coming up. Her father and the 
boys had gone out in the boat fishing, and she knew 
that they would be obliged to hurry back, for in 
this region storms come up very rapidly, so, hurry- 
ing down, she ran towards the house to see if her 
mamma was there; if not, she would go down to 
the dairy with an umbrella for her. She was glad 
now that she did not go fishing, too, her mamma 
having objected to it for fear the glare from the 
water would be too much for her eyes. 

By the time the family got safely housed, the 
storm burst with wild fury from the black, low-hang- 
ing clouds, the thunder, the floods of rain and hail 
making a frightful din ; and continued with such 
violence that they were obliged to remain at 
“ Tanglebrake ” all night, the very prospect of 
which exhilarated the children to such a degree that 
they got quite beside themselves. The house was 
large, and they had the freedom of it, while Mr. 
and Mrs. Machen sat in the little library conversing 
and reading alternately, not a whit disturbed by the 
uproar they made in their wild romps, from which 
they only desisted when they were called to dinner, 
which was the crowning enjoyment of the day, for 


42 


TOM-BOY. 


they were as hungry as hunters, and there was not a 
thing spread before them that they did not pro- 
nounce “the very nicest they ever tasted.” , Mr. 
and Mrs. Machen made companions of their children, 
entered into whatever interested them, and encour- 
aged them by not imposing too apparent a restraint 
upon them to confide without reserve all their plans, 
their troubles, scrapes and pleasures to them as to 
their best and most loving friends. So the family 
was a very united and a very happy one, as earthly 
happiness is understood, but in matters of faith and 
religion they felt no concern ; in fact, they were a set 
of amiable heathens, never having been baptized, 
neither mother nor children. 

Gay thought she had never heard anything so 
lovely as the sounds of the rain pattering down upon 
the old fashioned roof over her bedroom. She 
revelled in the wildest fancies ; she danced about the 
floor in her bare feet, trying to keep time with the 
elfin tattoos overhead, but she had not enough feet 
for that ; then she stood at the window and pressed 
her face against the glass, trying to see into the 
mysterious night, and was frightened away by the 
wind dashing the catalpa boughs against the panes, 
as if it was some winged thing struggling to get in, 
after which she snuggled herself upon her pillows, 
and fell asleep, wondering if any of her friends, the 
fairies, had been caught in the storm, and if the 
baby-crows were not awfully w r et and scared up 
there in the top of the pear tree. 
p When Gay awoke a cat-bird was singing its 
wonderfully sweet notes in the honeysuckle vines 
over her window ; the sun flickered through the 


ISABEL . 


43 


leaves, and every rain drop hanging upon them 
looked like a pendant diamond. Springing up she 
dipped her face in a basin of cool water, and dressed 
herself quickly, putting some of her things on wrong 
side outwards, and buttoning others too high up, or 
too low down, until she looked zig-zag all over ; 
then combing her hair and smoothing it flat with 
both hands, she tied the green shade over her eyes, 
and ran down-stairs. But finding no one, she flew 
into the large kitchen, where she thought she heard 
the voices of her mother and the boys. They were 
there sure enough, but a sight greeted her which 
fairly took her breath. Drowned ducklings, chicks, 
and goslings, lay about in heaps on the wide brick 
hearth, and old Aunt Sukey, who had charge of the 
poultry, bewailing her losses, as she placed those not 
quite dead in baskets lined with raw cotton, and after 
covering witl\ cotton fleece, set them near the fire, 
Mrs. Maclien assisting her. A great cry from Gay 
interrupted the party for a moment ; she wanted to 
know how it had happened. They told her it was 
the heavy storm : the rain had washed into the nests, 
which were under small, low, tent-shaped houses, on 
the ground, and flooded them, drowning hundreds 
of the little creatures who were sporting about so 
happily in the sunshine the day before. 

Gay gathered up an apron full of the little dead 
innocents that had been thrown together in a heap, 
as being “ done for," and sitting upon the floor tried 
her best to bring them to life, by breathing into the 
mouth of each one, and holding them up close to 
her warm breast and cheeks. But all in vain, until 
presently a beautiful plump gosling that she held 


44 


TOM-BOY . 


cradled in her two hands faintly opened its red bill 
and* shut it again with a gasp ; then its eyes unclosed 
and Gray, overjoyed, held it up to her mouth and 
breathed warmly upon it. She cuddled it against her 
cheek, and there came a feeble chirp, a weak little 
flutter, and a stretching out of the feet, which 
assured her that it would live. 

“ Oh, mamma, this one has come to life ! only see, 
it can hold up its head ; shall it be mine ? ” she 
cried. 

“ Yes, indeed. But put it here with the rest near 
the fire,” said Mrs. Machen. 

“ Oh no ! give me some cotton to wrap him up in ; 
he’s mine. I’m going to take care of him myself 
and feed him, and do everything for him. He’s my 
’dopted child ! ” 

“ Very well ; take good care of him,” said her 
mamma, who was too busy to attend to Gay. Nearly 
one hundred and fifty young fowls had been 
destroyed by the storm, and she was doing her best 
to save those that survived, so Gay was left in quiet 
possession of her waif. She fed it from her mouth 
and kept it snuggled, carefully wrapped in cotton, 
in a little basket that she carried about with her all 
day, and by evening it was as chirk as a robin, ate a 
reasonable supper of bread and milk, and slept 
soundly that night in its basket hammock that was 
swung upon the post of Gay’s low bedstead. And 
while the rescued gosling slept safely and soundly 
after its perils, Gay sat up in bed, telling Therese 
the wonderful things that had happened at “Tan- 
glebrake ; ” things mixed up of her fancies and 
dreams into such a marvellous tissue of fairy lore, 


ISABEL. 


45 


that the girl was quite frightened,, and afraid to 
blow out the light, and go back to her room ; but 
Mammy Dozier’s footsteps were heard advancing 
along the passage, and she slipped out through a 
side door to another apartment which opened into 
the nursery, and before the housekeeper had time to 
get back Therese had gained her room and was 
safely in bed. 

Mrs. Machen’s motherly heart was oppressed by 
the thought of the coming stranger. She had 
formed an ideal of her, despite the arguments of 
her sterling common sense against the chimera her 
fancy conjured up, which half frightened, and 
made her wish fifty times a day that she had not 
been so foolish as to consent to so heavy a respon- 
sibility. She expected to see a tall, imperious look- 
ing girl, haughty, disagreeable, and indolent, illy 
trained, superstitious, and having, heaven only 
knew, what sort of principles. 

“My children,” thought this anxious mother, 
while giving the last finishing touches to the sweet 
airy apartment prepared for the coming stranger ; 
“ my children are a wild, uproarious set, but they 
are innocent and good at heart. I am sure such an 
associate would be the ruin of Gay. But she’ll 
despise my poor ugly Tom-boy at first — this proud 
little Southern girl — I know, and that will give me 
time to breathe, and arrange my plans, I am glad to 
to think.” 

The hour approached when the stage might be 
expected ; sometimes it came a little before, and 
sometimes a little after the hour set down on the 
schedule of the line, as used to be the way with 


46 


TOM-BOY. 


stages, and still is where they are in use ; but there 
was preparation and suspense in the Machen house 
which made everybody uncomfortable. Gay, prettily 
dressed, and still wearing her green shade, was 
ordered not to move off the veranda ; the boys, all 
freshly washed, collared and cuffed, their clothes 
and hair brushed within an inch of their lives, were 
admonished to keep quiet and amuse themselves 
playing dominoes, or reading, and were so impressed 
by the novel situation of sitting about the drawing- 
room that Dave declared it was “ almost as good 
fun as being at a funeral.” They behaved with 
great decorum however, until Gay’s dog ran skipping 
in curveting round the drawing room, wagging his 
tail, uttering those short merry barks which in dog 
latin means, “Come ! come ! play ! jump ! laugh : 
whoop! chase! come!” when all in a minute a 
spontaneous rojnp set in, nobody knew how, and 
Gay, attracted by the familiar sounds, was instantly 
in the thick of it ; and while the boys were all 
tumbling together in a heap upon the floor, punch- 
ing each other’s heads and ribs, shouting with 
laughter, their legs flying around wildly, while the 
dog barked, and Gay stood clapping her hands with 
delight at the fun, the door opened and their 
mamma, leading a girl in deep mourning, came in. 
Mr. Machen followed, and heartily ashamed that the 
gentle young stranger should be met by such a rude 
scene, said, sternly : “Boys ! ” There was a quick 
scuffle, an untangling of legs and arms, and the 
abashed youngsters stood erect, red to the roots of 
their hair, and looking troubled beyond description. 
Mrs. Machen led the young girl to the sofa, and 


ISABEL . 


47 


after untying her hat, and helping olf her hot bom- 
bazine mantle, called her children around her and 
introduced them to Isabel Forsyth. 

Isabel was small and slender ; her face was oval, 
with regular, refined features, her eyes large and 
blue, her mouth sensitive and tremulous, and her 
long curling hair so golden and bright that it looked 
as if the sun were shining through it. Gay thought 
her hands must be made of wax, they were so small 
and white, and felt that she should never grow 
tired of looking at her, she was so pretty, nor of 
fixing those long loose curls, if she would let her. 

What a relief the child’s very appearance was to 
the family-mother no tongue can describe ; she felt 
her heart yearning towards the desolate orphan with 
maternal tenderness, and she gently strove to make 
her feel herself at home. 

But that could not be yet. Isabel had never been 
among strangers, and she shrunk within herself, 
and from the advances of her new friends. She 
replied whenever spoken to, but there was a look 
in her great blue eyes, and a tremulous quiver about 
her lips whenever she did so, as if she was going to 
burst out crying every minute ; so Mrs. Machen led 
her up to her beautiful room next to Gay’s and after 
closing the door, drew Isabel to her bosom, and told 
her that she wanted her to try and feel at home 
among her new kindred, who would be very kind to 
her. Then she told her about Gay, and the boys, 
and what affectionate kindly natures they had ; and 
tried to soothe the poor little heart that she felt flut- 
tering against her side by assurances of motherly 
love and protection. 


48 


TOM-BOY. 


“ Thank you, ma’am ; you are very kind ; but 1 
miss my — my — poor papa,” she sobbed. 

“ Yes, darling, I know that,” said Mrs. Machen, 
tenderly. “ To-morrow you must tell me all about 
him, and your Southern home; but you are very tired 
now : I want you to lie down and rest until tea-time, 
when I will come up for you myself. Here is some 
ice water, should you want any.” Then Isabel was 
left alone, which was about the very best thing that 
could have been done for her, she felt so miserable 
and tired. 

When tea was ready Mrs. Machen brought Isabel 
down. Mr. Machen and the lads stood at their 
respective places at the table ; Isabel and Gay were 
to sit near the mother, opposite each other, one on 
her right, the other on her left. The little girl 
glided into her chair, as the rest sat down, and, 
bowing her h$ad, crossed herself and whispered an 
inaudible grace ; then looked up, utterly unconscious 
of the astonishment her simple act had excited, an 
act of Catholic devotion as natural to her as it was 
to breathe, and so much of a daily habit that she 
could not remember when, or how it had been 
taught her, nor did she dream but that every one 
present had done the very same thing. 


CHAPTER IY. 


ISABEI/S NEW HOME, AND HOW SHE GOT 
ACQUAINTED. 

Isabel Forsyth was naturally a gay hearted 
child, but ever since her birth she had lived under 
the shadow of great sorrows, which, although she 
could not fully comprehend them, had a subduing 
and saddening influence upon her. The death of 
her little brothers and sisters, one after another, the 
gradual failing and final passing away of her dearly 
loved mother, and last, and perhaps more bitter 
than all, because she was old enough to realize the 
greatness of the loss that left her desolate, the death 
of her father, were severe trials for a child so preco- 
cious and sensitive as Isabel to bear. The oft re- 
peated visits of the silent Angel had left a deeper 
shadow and heavier stillness in the old Spanish 
homestead at St. Augustine each time that he came, 
bringing a chill with his noiseless presence, for he 
bore away with him one of the links of life and love 
that had brightened it ; and so the child grew into 
a girlhood that was quiet and sad. 

It is not strange, therefore, that she shrunk from 
the noisy, healthy, merry children in her new 
home. Their wholesome, voracious appetites shocked 
her; their disregard for appearances, their too often 
tousled heads, and frequently torn clothing, 


TOM-BOY. 


50 

their muddy or dusty shoes, their rude sports, 
their loud voices shouting to each other through 
the house and grounds, and above all. Gay’s 
hoydenish ways, her oddities, and her unatten- 
tive appearance almost frightened Isabel, and at 
first made her very unhappy, even while the good 
natured little savages were doing all in their power 
to get acquainted with her. She had never seen 
such children before,, and with a natural want of 
discrimination thought they must be bad, when they 
were only wild and intent on enjoyment in their 
own robust boyish way. Every night she had a 
quiet cry after she went to bed and Mammy Dozier 
had extinguished the candle and gone to her own 
room; and sometimes she prayed that the “good 
Jesus would take her to her mamma and papa, for 
everything was so strange, and she felt so desolate 
in her new home.” But a night’s rest generally re- 
animated her drooping courage and she would rise 
with the determination to try and be satisfied and 
contented among the friends her dear father had 
placed her with. 

After breakfast, seeing that Gay usually sat down 
by her mother’s chair to hem on a great roll of ruf- 
fling, Isabel got out her beautiful French work-box 
which her father brought her once from New 
Orleans for a birthday gift, and taking it down 
with her she timidly asked Mrs. Machen if she 
might sit there and sew. 

“ Certainly, my child ; I would have invited you 
to come before, but I wanted you to feel perfectly 
at home first. Will you sit here by me, or ove* 
there on the sofa near the window?” 


ISABEL’S NEW HOME. 51 

“On the sofa, if you please, ma’am,” answered 
Isabel. 

“ Gray is just learning to sew and I have to keep 
her near me that I may show her when she goes 
wrong. She is really learning how to make neat, 
regular stitches at last.” 

“ I can't bear, it though. I'd rather scrub, like 
the house-maid, any day! " said Gay. 

“Oh, what a lovely work-box! Mamma, let me 
go just one minute and look at Isabel's pretty things, 
mayn't I? " 

“ If it will be agreeable to Isabel; I will give you 
five minutes,” answered Mrs. Maclien, always 
ready to seize any opportunity that presented itself 
by which a feminine taste might be developed in 
Gay. 

“Thank you, mamma! How jolly to stop hem- 
ming, five whole minutes to look at pretty things,” 
said Gay, tossing her work aside with delight, but 
she had to stoop to pick it up off the floor and place 
it in an orderly manner with her thimble and spool 
upon her chair ; then she rushed across the room, 
and kneeling before the sofa, gazed with delight on 
the glittering contents of the open work-box. 

“ May I touch them?” she asked. 

“I will show them to you, please,” replied Isabel, 
taking out one by one the exquisite little imple- 
ments of gold and mother-of-pearl with which it 
was furnished, which Gay handled as nicely as she 
could have desired. Everything in that wonderful 
box was a fresh surprise to her : the different 
colored sewing silks, and embroidery cotton of every 
shade and tint, besides white spools, were placed in 


52 


TOM-BOY. 


regular order in their proper compartments ; then 
there was a gold sewing-bird with ruby eyes, whose 
use Isabel explained ; there was a gold thimble and 
mother-of-pearl winders ; and a small glass vial en- 
cased in vines of filigree gold, which contained ottar 
of roses ; and inside the top of the box was a small 
mirror, while underneath the upper .case there were 
tapes, bobbins, buttons, needles and ribbons ; a 
piece of unfinished embroidery on velvet, and three 
or four fine linen cambric handkerchiefs folded ready 
to be hemmed as soon as the one she was about was 
finished. Gay was so enchanted by all she saw that 
she called her mother to come and share her delight, 
and Mrs. Maclien laid by her sewing to examine 
Isabel's treasures which she did with an appreciative 
eye ; but the five minutes were past, and Gay went 
back quite disconsolately to the odious ruffle hem- 
ming. 

“If I had a work-box like that, I might get to 
like sewing! I know one thing, I shall hate ruffles 
as long as ever I live,” she murmured ; but no notice 
was taken, and she took up her work and resumed 
her unpleasant task. That evening, just about 
sunset, Gay went up to Isabel’s room with the kind 
thought in her mind to persuade her to come out on 
the grounds a little while ; but she found her sitting 
all alone, crying over the piece of embroidery she 
had seen that morning in her work-box. The beau- 
tiful roses and pansies worked on the black velvet 
were sprinkled with tears, and Gay, when she saw 
how it was, halted in front of Isabel and asked her 
what she was crying about ? 

Isabel folded up the embroidery and put it in her 


ISABEL'S NEW HOME . 


53 


trunk; then, while her lip trembled, she said simply: 
<f It's a slipper I began to work for my dear papa, 
but he's dead, you know." 

“ Don't cry, Isabel! I'm so sorry for you! Please 
try and like us just a little bit, won't you?" said 
Gay, throwing her arms around her. 

“ I'll try! " she answered, without returning the 
caress, which in fact had almost smothered her. 

“ There! " laughed Gay ; “ that's what we call a 
bear hug, and we never give any one that we don't 
like a bear hug, I can tell you." She evidently 
thought she had done something very friendly, and 
did not notice Isabel's crimsoned face and quick 
breathing, the result of her embrace. 

“ I’m very much afraid of bears ; I saw one at a 
show once. Please don’t do it again," she answered 
in a grave, serious manner. 

(( I won't, if you don't like it* But come out 
and play, won't you? It's beautiful out there." 

“ I'll come to-morrow, maybe." 

“ That's what you always say. It's horrid. It's 
enough to kill you, mewed up all the time in the 
house. I wish you'd come, I've got some of my 
dolls, and Nebuchodnozer out there under the trees." 

“Who?" asked Isabel, surprised out of her apa- 
thy.” 

“Neb. That's my gosling. He eats no end of 
grass, and I call him so for that. When he's bad I 
call him all the name, but other times I call him 
Nebby, and he knows just as well as I do what's the 
difference." 

“ How funny," said Isabel, smiling just enough 
to dimple her cheeks. 


54 


TOM-BOY. 


“ Come along then.” 

“ I'll come with you to-morrow/’ she still an- 
swered. 

“ Very well. I’ll wait, and if you don’t come I’ll 
tell you just what I’ll do. To-morrow’s Saturday, 
and the f gowks’ — that’s my brothers — will be home. 
Dave and I will lock our hands together to make 
f My Lady’s Chair,’ and if you don’t come right off, 
Charley and Tom shall hoist you right up into it 
and we’ll carry you off like the ‘ Young Lochinvar ’ 
carried off Ellen from Netherby Hall.” 

Isabel sat breathless! To be hoisted up by two boys 
and set down upon the hands of another hoy and 
that dreadful girl to be carried off, was not to be 
thought of, and she determined to go at all hazards 
when to-morrow came. So she told Gay that she 
would not fail to go with her, if she’d call her when 
she was ready. 

“ On your honor, now ! ” 

“Yes, on my honor,” was the quiet answer. 

The Maclien children had compared notes about 
their strange, quiet young companion and the 
verdict was against her. Isabel was as great a 
problem to them as they were to her ; they thought 
she was an affected little prig and selfish into the 
bargain. They had never had any trouble them- 
selves, they knew nothing of death except as a word 
and a myth, and had passed their lives in the free- 
dom and loving associations of their own home ; 
hence they could not realize why Isabel was so mop- 
ing and quiet. Then Mammy Dozier very injudi- 
ciously added to their distaste by telling Gay and 
Dave that, “ Isabel Forsyth behaved like gentle folks’ 


ISABEL’S NEW HOME. 


55 


children should, that she was a perfect lady, and 
not a Tom-boy, climbing, and ranting 'round like a 
motherless colt." 

“ You only say that, because she's — what do you 
call 'em, Gay — the people that go up yonder to the 
church where they burn candles and make smoke in 
a silver coffee-pot you know ?" exclaimed Dave, 
filled with ire by the comparisons of Mammy Dozier. 

“ Catholics ; Isabel's a Roman Catholic," an- 
swered Gay. 

“ It's a pity then that you're not one, if it tames 
people into good manners," said the old nurse, grow- 
ing red in the face, for her Irish blood was up. 

“ You're tame enough, Mam' Dozier," said Dave, 
saucily, and narrowly escaped a slap from her up- 
lifted hand, by a precipitate flight. 

The next morning Isabel took out of her trunk 
a hanging oratory of exquisitely carved wood, in 
which a crucifix of ebony and the sacred image of 
Christ in stained ivory was secured, the whole case 
about a foot long, and asked Mrs. Machen's permis- 
sion to have a nail driven in the wall at the side of 
her bed upon which to suspend it, which was readily 
granted. Under the oratory she hung a little 
engraved copy of Murillo's Blessed Madonna watch- 
ing the Divine Babe as He slumbered upon her 
knees. On each side of this she placed the 
miniatures of her father and mother which were 
painted in ivory and encased in dainty frames ; 
then she felt more at home, for Mammy Dozier had 
told her that her new friends were not Catholics but 
were mighty good people for all ; that they were 
kind to the poor and to their servants, and just in 


56 


TOM-BOY. 


their dealings, but had never been baptized/ more’s 
the pity for them.” 

But the religious question was one which was not 
to be raised under any circumstances, Mr. and Mrs. 
Machen agreed, and issued instructions accordingly ; 
a pew was rented at St. Paul's and nicely, cushioned 
for the use of Isabel and Mammy Dozier, and she 
was to go to her church, and attend to her duties, 
without asking leave or being questioned. 

Once, soon after she came, Mrs. Machen in pass- 
ing through the house, stepped into Isabel's room 
to see if the muslin curtains had been put up to the 
windows, and found her studying so intently as she 
bent over a book she held in her hand, that her 
entrance did not disturb her. 

“ Isabel, dear, what are you studying ? ” asked 
Mrs. Machen. 

“ My catechism, ma’am/' she replied, with a start, 
not knowing there .was any one near her. 

“ Ah yes. That is right.” 

“ If I only had some one to hear me,” she said, 
timidly, “I think I could remember it better. 
Papa made me promise to study it every day.” 

“ Have you asked Mammy Dozier to hear you ? ” 

“No, ma'am.; she is so very busy all the time.” 

“ So she is — much more so than there's need ; but 
it's her way. Should you like me to hear you ? ” 

“ Will you, ma'am ?*' she inquired, eagerly. 

“ Certainly, my child,” answered Mrs. Machen, 
sitting down near her ; “I will hear you now if you 
wish it.” 

“Thanks. I am ready and so glad ! ” said the 
gentle, low voiced girl, placing her catechism in Mrs. 


ISA BEL'S NE W HO ME . 


57 


Machen’s hand. She knew her lesson perfectly and 
Mrs. Machen, promising Isabel to come every day 
about the same hour to hear her recite, went away 
with something new to think about, gleaned from 
that book of simple words but great lessons. 

After dinner, when Gay, accompanied by Dave, 
came to invite Isabel to go out into 'the grounds, 
she made no difficulty, but put on her hat and cape 
at once, being in wholesome dread of the “Lord 
Lochinvar” style of conveyance. Gay had her 
dolls, “ Lady Jane,” “ Otelia,” “ Mrs. Madison,” 
“ Ellenore,” “ Marie Louise ” and a half dozen others 
all seated in state, in wagons which had been man- 
ufactured for her at different times by the “ boys,” 
waiting her return with Isabel, at the veranda steps. 
Cuddled down amongst them was Neb., the gosling, 
but Gay routed him up, and while she and Dave 
drew the wagons, he followed close at her heels 
cheeping distractedly, which amused Isabel. Ar- 
rived at the destined spot, a clump of large lilacs 
near her garden, surrounded by an area of velvety 
grass, Gay went in and out among the high shrubs, 
showing with immense pride certain shaded nooks 
and recesses which she called “dining room,” 
“ drawing-room,” “ library,” and “ bedrooms,” to 
Isabel, chattering and laughing merrily all the time 
she was settling her dolls in their respective places. 

“ You know. Miss Forsyth,” she Went on to eav, 
“ I have to bring the poor dears out for their health. 
Lady Jane was born in Paris, and gets in a great 
huff when she doesn’t have her airing. Mrs. Madi- 
son is an American lady. (Mrs. Madison was a doll 
of home manufacture, stuffed with cotton, and had 


58 


TOM-BOY. 


a white kid face which Mrs. Maclien had painted ; 
and for her hair she was indebted to the same lady, 
who took some old false curls and sewed them on her 
head under a spangled leno turban. “ She was born 
in Philadelphia, and is never sick, and never breaks 
her legs, and arms, and nose like the others do. 
“ Otelia” is very delicate ; she’s lost her color and 
I think she’s home-sick. But, oh my ! they give me 
so much trouble ! they get so jealous of each other 
about their clothes that Teresa and I can hardly 
make dresses enough for them. I sent two away 
yesterday to boarding-school, and three of the oldest 
ones, who were dreadfully pitted with small-pox, 
went to Italy.” 

Isabel listened to all this in amazement ; she had 
not the least idea that the absent dolls were broken, 
and had the wax melted in pits all over their faces, 
and that Gay had given them to some poor little 
children over the river, who were happy in their pos- 
session. But this was Gay’s way of putting things. 

“ But dolls don’t talk ! ” said Isabel. 

“ Yes, they do, but you couldn’t understand them. 
I talk to them inside somehow and hear them the 
same way when they answer me ! ” answered Gay^ 
gravely. 

Isabel was too polite to dispute the point however 
much she couldn’t understand it, so she said nothing 
but sat watching Gay as she pulled some long grass 
for Nebby, the gosling, who stretched himself con- 
tentedly upon it, resting upon his couch and nib- 
bling it at the same time. 

“You ridiculous little Nebby. Just look at his 
bright eyes, Isabel ! ” 


ISABEL’S NEW HOME. 59 

u He’s a very pretty pet. I like him better than 
dolls!” 

“ You do ! Hid you never play with dolls ? ” 

“No,” replied Isabel, with a far away, sad look in 
her eyes. 

“I tell you what I’ll do, Isabel. I’ll give you 
Nebby for your own pet, if you’d like to have him,” 
said Gay, flushed with generous emotion. 

“No ; I don’t want him, bub I thank you all the 
same,” said Isabel, who saw how Gay doted on 
Nebby. 

“ That’s being real stingy, it is so, not to take a 
thing when it’s offered to you ! ” said Gay, pouting. 

“ Can he swim ? ” asked Isabel, not noticing but 
wondering how she could be stingy only for refusing 
to accept a thing ; it was new logic to her. 

“ You shall see him swim after he takes his nap. 
He swims like a fish,” answered Gay, with pride in 
the accomplishments of her darling. “ But let’s sit 
down and talk now ; my house is all fixed and the 
Dolling family in good humor. Just see how they 
are sitting, and smiling at each other like angels.” 

“How strange ! I should like so much to hear 
them ! ” 

“ I’m afraid you never can. Some people can’t 
make it out. Do you ever have dreams ?” 

“ Sometimes.” 

“I do. I dream every night, such lovely dreams ! 
I didn’t know at first what dreaming was, and I 
thought it was all for true ; then I used to get so 
mad with Teresa for saying she didn’t see the 
things that I saw in my dreams when she used to be 
in all of them, that I bawled and screamed because 


60 


TOM-BOY. 


I thought she did it to contradict me. I never told a 
lie in my life_, and it seemed to make out that I did." 

“ Is Teresa your cousin ?’’ inquired Isabel, much 
amused. 

“No, she’s no kin. She’s old Mrs. Gill’s daugh- 
ter, and mamma ’dopted her for a play-mate for me, 
and I love her dearly.’’ 

“ Does she play with you often 

“ Not so often now, for mamma says we’re both 
too wild. I’m a Tom-boy, you know ; so is she ; 
and they keep us apart so we can’t lead each other 
into mischief. Oh, we used to have such jolly 
times ! ’’ said Gay, with a regretful sigh. 

Then Gay told Isabel about some of the pranks 
she and Teresa used to play, and all about drown- 
ing and burying the kittens ; how the bee stung her 
foot, and how the kittens came out of their graves 
all the better for the ducking they had got. 

Isabel was shocked at first, but when she heard 
that the kittens were not drowned, all of which was 
told in Gay’s peculiarly funny way, she laughed 
outright. 

“I’m glad you know how to laugh ; I was ’fraid 
you didn’t ; some people just grill and make a noise 
like they had a fit. I don’t call that laughing ; do 
you ?’’ 

“I don’t know ; I have never heard many people 
laugh !’’ 

“Well, you know howto anyways; that was a 
real chirpy laugh. Now, I’m going to tell you 
about my gold necklace, if you want to hear,’’ said 
Gay, who was as fond of story-telling as Scherezaide 
of the “ Arabian Nights.’’ 


ISABEL'S NEW HOME. 


61 


“ I should like to hear it very much,” answered 
Isabel, highly amused. 

“ Once upon a time, my papa and mamma went 
to Philadelphia. It was about two years ago, and 
mamma brought me a beautiful gold necklace, but 
didn’t bring Teresa one, and I was so sorry for her 
that the very first time Mammy Dozier dressed me 
up in it and told me, after I came home from driv- 
ing with mamma, to sit upon the front veranda and 
not to go in the street, because she thought, you 
know, that I’d tear or dirty my dress, I whisked the 
necklace off just as soon as ever she went in, and 
ran down to the gutter and buried it in the sand.” 

“ What for ? ” asked Isabel, her eyes full of won- 
der. 

“ Well, you know I thought they’d grow up into a 
tree and bear gold beads enough for Teresa and 
everybody else that I liked,” replied Gay, laughing. 
“Whew! wasn’t there a big row when I told 
mammy what I had done !” 

“ Did they find them again ? ” 

“No indeed ! They were gone. I don’t know 
what became of them.” 

“ Why didn’t you plant them in the garden, then 
they would not have been lost ! ” 

“ Because, you know, they hever put on my very 
nicest things except when I’m taken out, and I am 
not allowed to go in the garden when dressed up.” 

“Did your mamma punish you ?” 

“No; she looked very sorry, and I tell you that 
was worse than being punished. That made me cry, 
but I didn’t care for the beads a single snap. 
Oh ! I do so love to play, and go loose, like a boy.” 


62 


TOM-BOY. 


“ I think it’s horrid for a girl to do so ! ” 

“I don’t. I play marbles and ‘ hop-scotch’ 
and ball, and Mast tag/ and bandy with the 
‘ gowks/ that’s Tom and Charley and Dave, and 
I often beat them too. I can climb trees like a 
squirrel, and ride horseback, and catch crabs, and 
jump ever so far, and I can row, and ride a horse 
bare-back, whew ! you ought to see what a Tom-boy 
lam!” said Gray, who recited her accomplishments 
with great pride and elation of soul. 

“ I never heard of such a girl ! ” said Isabel, actu- 
ally awed by such stupendous doings. “ Why do you 
wear that shade over your eyes ; are they weak?” 

“No, indeed. I cut off all my eyelashes and eye- 
brows one day when I got tired of that horrid 
ruffling, but they are growing out again.” Then 
she told Isabel all about it, but the latter couldn’t 
see the fun of it in the least. 

“ Then in the winter when the snow comes, I 
catch birds in a trap, and go skating with Dave.” 

“You do ! But what do you do with the 
birds ?” 

“ I smooth down their feathers, and snuggle ’em 
up to my cheek ; then I let them loose, for their 
poor little hearts beat as if they’d burst, and I 
almost cry ; then they all come back in the spring 
an'd build in our trees and vines and sing to me.’’ 

“ Oh my ! Do you think they remember your 
turning them loose ? ” 

“ Of course I do, for I tell them to before I let 
them go, and I know every one of them ; the ‘pee- 
weets/ the ‘bluebirds/ the ‘ cat-birds/ the ‘red 
breasts/ the ‘sparrows’ and the ‘Bob-Whites.’” 


ISABEL'S NEW HOME. 


63 


“Who's Bob-White, Gay ?” 

“Don't you know who Bob-White is? He's a 
partridge, and goes this way," said Gay, as she 
puckered up her mouth and whistled so exactly like 
a partridge that it sounded as if some one had said 
f Bob-White ' in a shrill tone. 

Then she imitated the low warble of the bluebird 
the trills of the sparrow, and the plaintive cry of the 
little ‘pee-weet,' until presently, answering notes 
came from the nests hidden among the leaves, and 
“ Tom-boy " and the birds had an antiphon between 
them which astonished Isabel more than all the rest, 
and delighted her at the same time. “Now," said 
Gay, “ I'm going to make the ‘ cat-bird ' mad; there's 
a nest up the pear tree over there." Then she 
began to mew like an enraged kitten and in a few 
minutes there was an angry flutter in the pear tree, 
and another kitten seemed to be answering in tones 
indicative of scratching and biting, if a fair chance 
were given. 

“ Is that a cat in the tree ?" inquired Isabel. 

“No ! it’s a cat-bird ; there he sits, look how mad 
he is, with his yellow mouth stretched wide open, 
and his feathers all ruffled ! " said Gay, laughing. 

“It looks like a mocking-bird — " 

“ And he sings like one too when lie's in good 
humor. Now you listen." 

Tom-boy whistled a few clear, trilling notes ; the 
cat-bird smoothed down his ruffled plumage, uttered 
one or two discordant sounds, then hopped pp on a 
higher bough near the nest of his patient mate and 
burst into a melody of sweet song ! 

“I've heard the mocking-bird sing just like that 


64 


TOM-BOY. 


in the f pride-of-China ' trees at home,” said Isabel, 
in low tones. 

“Mammy says he can't do all that mocking-birds 
do, but what the old fellow does, he does as well as 
they do. Oh, such bird-talks as I do have some- 
times, it would make you laugh to hear them. I 
just climb up and hide myself in a tree and whistle 
’em all up in every direction, and it's funny to see 
what a flutter they get in when they find out that 
somebody's playing a trick upon them ! ” 

“ I should like to see that,” remarked Isabel, very 
much interested. 

“And when I was a very little girl, old Aunt 
Sukey, over - the river, told me for true, if I would 
put salt upon a bird’s tail I could catch it, ‘ for the 
birds,' says she, f are folks that have a spell upon 
'em.' So I used to grab a handful of salt out of 
the kitchen salt-box when I got a chance, and go 
trudging about after the birds to try to get near 
enough to them to drop the salt upon their tails, 
for I thought sure enough, that they were enchanted 
princes and princesses, and I used to beg them to 
wait, that I was going to bring them back to their 
natural shape ; but they always flew off, and I knew 
it was a story.” 

“I never heard anything half so funny before,” 
said Isabel, who had not the remotest idea of what 
to make of so strange a girl ; she saw that she was 
kind and good natured, but so unlike anything she 
had ever met before in her life. “Do you believe 
in fairies ? ” 

“Certainly I do,” said Gay, stoutly, “for I've 
seen them.” 


ISABEL'S NEW HOME. 65 

“ I should like to see one. Couldn't you show me 
the next one you see ? " 

“ Maybe you couldn't see them. None of the boys 
can. Even Teresa can't, and mamma and papa 
don't believe in them. Mammy Dozier says there 
ain't any fairies except in Ireland, but I know bet- 
ter. But I'll tell you about them sometime ; 
Nebby's waking up now and wants his swim. Come 
with me to the fountain and see him." 

The gosling waddled up to his little mistress, 
cheeping like everything until she snatched him up 
and kissed him, then set him down and started with 
Isabel to the fountain. Neb following after, trying 
to run and fly at the same time, with his ridiculous 
little wings that looked like feathered fins ; for he 
knew what was coming. The basin of the fountain 
was large and the jet high, so that when the water 
fell, its splash made the most beautiful and natural 
looking little ripples that can be imagined ; and 
when Neb was tossed in, he dived and ducked his 
head under, then floated and was rocked by the 
wavelets of the fountain in a way that was splendid 
to behold. Isabel was delighted with the perform- 
ance and laughed again, which gladdened Tom-boy's 
heart, for she had been doing her best ever since 
Isabel came to get acquainted with her, but had 
never succeeded until now. 

“ You sit here ; Isabel, I'm going to catch flies to 
throw into the water for Nebby," said Gay, running 
off toward the kitchen. 

“ Going to catch flies ! " thought Isabel, looking 
after her ; “ I wonder what she'll do next." 


CHAPTER Y. 


THE BOBOLINK WITH A STRAW IN HIS BILL. 

Before long Gay came back to the fountain with 
both hands full of captured flies. Cook was making 
a roly-poly pudding for dinner, and thousands of 
flies were swarming on the table watching their 
chance for a grain of sugar, or a sip of spiced wine, 
so intent on their prey that Gay scooped as many of 
them up as her hands could hold, without the least 
trouble. She was describing her mode of capture to 
Isabel in her own funny way as she hurled the flies 
into the rippling water, where Neb cut up the most 
absurd antics in his efforts to gobble them all up at 
the same time, which, as they were scattered 
around promiscuously, was a task that only a fairy 
godmother could have made easy for him. Gay 
clapped her hands with glee, and although IsabePs 
tender heart had a pitiful feeling for the struggling 
flies, she could not help being amused at the per- 
formance. 

A little chink had been opened in her heart that 
day, and some of the real sunshine of child-life had 
stolen in and warmed it up, and she had sat there 
all alone listening to the merry rippling of the 
fountain, while pleasant thoughts of her new home, 
and her new friends filled her mind. She thought 
that if Gay was a very funny, wild girl, there was 
nothing coarse or ill-natured about her ; on the con- 


THE BOBOLINK WITH A STRAW. IN 11IS BILL. 67 


trary she was very kind and good in her way ; and 
everything was so lovely around and in her new home 
and the Machens so friendly, and even the servants 
tried to keep her from feeling strange ; so that when 
Gay came back with flies for her gosling, Isabel was 
in a frame of mind to be amused by a little innocent 
fun. So she was sitting there quite contented, watch- 
ing Gay and the gosling, who still floated and dived 
around the large basin without the slightest sign of 
ever being tired when she heard a hallo ! then a 
shrill whistle ; then voices shouting for Gay. She 
knew that they were coming, those dreadful boys ; 
and with a frightened glance around her, which 
made her eyes look like a startled fawn's she told 
Gay that she was going in, and started towards the 
house. 

“ Don't go, yet; just wait one moment until I 
get my family together. Lady Ann will be furious 
if I leave her there under the lilies, and even Mrs. 
Madison will put on airs. Go wait, it's only the 
boys ! " pleaded Gay. 

“ I’m sorry I can’t wait ; I must go, indeed," said 
Isabel, as the whistling and shouting drew nearer, 
and when she saw the gleam of Dave's golden hair 
shoot like a comet around a clump of shrubbery it 
was all over, and by the time the boys reached the 
spot, she was in her room, with the Venetian door 
locked on the inside. But presently she heard foot- 
steps bounding up stairs ; she knew it must be one 
of the boys coming ; whoever it was, he came 
straight to her door, knocked first and then gave it 
a shake. She sat there trembling, as if a wolf were 
outside, and when the voice of Dave sung out to her 


68 


TOM-BOY. 


to “ open the door quick,” she had hardly strength 
enougli to breathe. 

“ I say!” stormed Dave; “open the door, Fve 
got something.” 

“ What do you want ? ” she asked, faintly. 

“ I won't tell yon 'till you open the door. I ain't 
going to bite you ! ” he said in his gruffest boy voice. 

“ If you please, I'd rather not,” answered Isabel. 

“ I don't please, and if you don't open the door in 
a jiffy I'll climb right up on the roof of the veranda, 
and come through the window’.” 

She had not thought of that, but now she saw 
how easily it could be done, and there were her 
windows opening right on the roof. How dreadful 
it would be to have him leaping through a window 
into her room like a great mischievous monkey. 
The idea was frightful, and while she wished there 
wasn't a boy in the world, she thought she had bet- 
ter parley with the enemy outside. 

“ Will you please tell me what you want ?” she 
asked timidly, through the slats of the door. 

“ If you'll open the door, I’ll tell you, and you'll 
be sorry if you don't. Do you think I'm a lion or a 
hyena ? ” 

“ N-o-o-o,” faltered Isabel ; “ but — but — you're 
so rough — ” 

“ I tell you I ain't going to bite you. I never 
saw such a foolish girl,” said Dave, out of all pa- 
tience. 

“Well, then,” answered Isabel, with the dread of 
his climbing up to the roof of the veranda. ever in 
view ; “ I'll open the door just a little way, if you 
won’t push, and bounce in.” 


The bobolink with a straw in his bill. 69 

“ I won't push or bounce in either, so there." 

Isabel opened the door, and there stood Dave, his 
elbow resting on the frame, his cap in one hand, 
and a big bunch of field flowers and feathery grasses 
in the other, which he held out for her acceptance. 

“ I got these for you over the river ; we boys 
have been to the farm to get eggs and chickens for 
mamma, and I brought these for you to stick up 
there before your little cage with the cross on it," 
said the lad, meaning the oratory. 

“ Yes, I know. It was so kind of you. Oh they 
are lovely ! Where do they grow ? " 

“ They grow in the woods’ and fields ; that's 
laurel, you see the flowers before they are open look 
like beautiful little pink vases ; that's star-wort ; 
and you have violets, why, the hill sides are blue 
with them ; these white things are dog-wood roses 
that grow on trees ; these are pink and yellow clover; 
this is meadow-rue ; here are some columbines, and 
butter cups," said Dave, pointing out his favorites 
with great glee. 

“ And do they all grow wild without a gardener 
to do anything for them ? " asked Isabel in wonder. 

“ Yes, and hundreds more like them. But here's 
something prettier yet," said Dave taking a sprig of 
laurel out of his cap, to which was pinned a great 
gorgeous butterfly with crimson and yellow and blue 
and brown spots over his black wings. “ I had such 
a race after him, and when I run him down I just 
took his head between my finger and thumb and 
gave it a little pinch that made his wings fly wide 
open, and they staid so because it killed him to 
pinch his head that way. Ain’t he a royal fellow ? " 


70 


TOM-BOT. 


“ Oil how cruel of you ! ” exclaimed Isabel. 
“ How could you do it ! ” 

“ Pshaw ? 99 said Dave, laughing ; “who cares for 
a butterfly ? It’s no worse to kill a butterfly than it 
is to kill a chicken is it, and don’t you eat chicken ? ” 
“ Yes, I do eat chicken, but it’s just killing for 
fun when you go and kill butterflies, and that’s 
cruel,” spoke up Isabel, bravely. 

“Well, you can eat your butterfly if you want to. 
I don’t care what you do with it. I thought you’d 
like it,” answered Dave, who thought Isabel was the 
silliest girl he ever saw in his life. 

“You know I can’t eat butterflies, but I’ll get 
Gay to stick it up somewhere for me. It can’t hurt 
it any more, poor little thing, but don’t pinch any 
more to death for me, please.” 

“ I won’t if you don’t want ’em. I tell you though 
it is some use killing butterflies, for one day there 
came a fat Dutchman to “ Tanglebrake ” when we 
were there, and he asked mamma to let him go about 
the place to catch butterflies, and if you had seen 
him trotting about over the hills up and down after 
the butterflies w r ith a net like a crabbing net in one 
hand, and a little blow-gun in the other, you’d have 
died laughing. He didn’t mind tumbling heels over 
head one bit, but would jump up and go at it again, 
and I helped him for I wanted to find out what he 
was catching butterflies for. Next day when he 
came I asked him, and he told me he was a naturalist, 
and had been sent here by the King of Bavaria to 
catch American butterflies to stick up in his 
Museum at Munich. So it must be some use to 
kill butterflies ! ” said Dave, with a triumphant air. 


THE BOBOLINK WITH A STB A W IN HIS BILL. 71 

“ I don’t see what he could want with them, 
poor little things ! ” she answered. 

That’s because you’re a girl. Girls don’t know 
much, except our Gay, she knows as much as a boy ! ” 
replied Dave turning up his nose. “But see here. 
I’ve got something to tell you. The menagerie is 
coming next week with a great big elephant named 
Columbus, and no end of ponies, monkeys, circus 
riders and wild beasts in cages, and papa is going 
to take us all, if we boys get good conduct tickets 
Saturday. Won’t it be jolly ?” 

“I never saw a menagerie, but I used to read 
about the wild animals in a big book that was in 
papa’s library, full of pictures.” 

“ Well, you’ll see ’em all, now ; won’t it be nice ! ” 

“ I think I shall be afraid,” said Isabel, wishing 
he’d go away. 

“ I wouldn’t be such a coward if I was a girl ! ” 
said Dave, loftily; “why you’re even afraid of a 
boy.” 

“ I have never been used to boys,” she replied, 
unable to deny the charge. 

“Well, I didn’t bite you, did I. I only come to 
fetch you some flowers, you see.” 

“Isabel lifted her shy brown eyes, and when she 
encountered the twinkling laughing blue ones of 
Dave Machen, and saw his face dimpling with good 
nature and fun, she smiled and involuntarily held 
out her hand to him saying : “ I won’t do so any- 
more. We’ll be good friends.” 

“Shaking hands is no way; here, hook your 
little finger in mine, then say it, so.” 

They hooked fingers, it was some sort of school- 


72 


TOM-BOY. 


boy free masonry that meant eternal friendship ; his 
right hand little finger in her left hand little finger 
sealed the compact. 

“Now,” said Dave, “when you want to be out 
with me, all you’ve got to do is to put your left 
thumb nail under your teeth so, when I am looking, 
and fillip it out at me this way. That’s the way we 
boys do and it saves quarrelling and fighting. 

“ How funny ! ” said Isabel, with a quiet little 
laugh which delighted her new ally, for he thought 
she didn’t know how to laugh until then. Then, 
after trying to persuade her to go out on the lawn 
with him to have a game of foot-ball, Dave took his 
departure thinking Isabel’s education had been 
frightfully neglected, while she, stunned and bewil- 
dered, sat down, believing that a new page had been 
turned over in her life. 

But after this, Isabel was less shy of the good 
natured merry lads and did not run, like a hare to 
covert, when she was out on the grounds with Gay 
and heard them coming. 

One pleasant evening Mr. and Mrs. Machen were 
sitting together under a large locust-tree, where 
they had taken tea with the children, and while 
engaged in agreeable conversation on the merits of 
a new book just out, watched the young folks who 
were amusing themselves in various ways about the 
grounds. Isabel and Gay were sailing leaf boats in 
the basin of the fountain, Dave was carving a peach 
stone basket near them, while Charley and Tom 
were having a high game of romps with their big 
Mount Saint Bernard dog, Alp, and it was pleasant 
to hear the hum of the young happy voices laughing 


THE BOBOLINK WITH A STRAW IN UIS BILL. 73 

and chattering and calling to each other, broken in 
upon at intervals by the loud guffaws of Alp, which 
of course sounded more like a resounding bark 
than a laugh, though laugh it was to all intents 
and purposes. 

“ That child,” said Mr. Machen, nodding towards 
Isabel, “ has got a good color in her face since she 
came here, and she don't seem so shy as at first. 
You have had time to form some opinion of her 
character, wife, tell me what you think of her ?'' 

“ I am altogether pleased with her. She is a 
thoroughly nice child, and her principles are all that 
is desirable, so far as my observation goes. I think 
she's disposed to be a little haughty and imperious, 
sometimes, but that's the result of her early associa- 
tions, and will wear itself out. She was unnaturally 
grave, and full of morbid ideas, but the rough hearty 
ways of our children are gradually undermining the 
sorrowful impressions of her past life, poor little 
woman ! It is a good thing for her aud Gay to be 
together. I can already see that Gay, without being 
tamed, has grown more gentle in her ways, while 
Isabel gets more like other young people of her age. 
As to the boys, they tease her and quiz her with all 
sorts of improbable stories, but I notice that they 
are kind to her, and she takes their fun in good part, 
so I don't interfere.” 

“ That's right. Let children's character develop 
naturally, and tighten or loosen the reins as may be. 
Children need training more than coercion but then 
there are so few who will take the trouble to train 
children. There’s Mr. Dickson with his eight boys, 
he sets up one standard of action for eight different 


74 


TOM-BOY. 


temperaments, dispositions, and idiosyncracies, and 
they are all whipped up to the regulation mark, and 
the consequence is, that their bad traits which have 
been simply kept out of sight by fear, are constantly 
cropping out in secret, and there’s not a piece of 
mischief going on in the neighborhood that they 
haven’t a hand in. When found out and complained 
of, they demurely deny it to their parents who dis- 
pose of the matter by saying: “I have raised my 
boys with such principles that I know it is utterly 
impossible for them to have been engaged in what 
you complain of.” So you see they have direct 
encouragement to lie.” 

“ It is a fatal mistake,” said Mrs. Maclien. “ I 
would rather see my boys dead than have them grow 
up under such a system. But this reminds me of 
something I have been wishing to speak to you 
about. You know I have been hearing Isabel say 
her catechism ever since she has been here, and the 
conviction is forced upon my mind that children 
should have religious, I mean general religious 
principles instilled into them as the foundation of 
their education. The Catholic Church is wise on 
this point. From the hour a child can make the 
sign of the cross, its religious training begins and 
becomes part of its daily life. Now I don’t want my 
children to be Roman Catholics, but I want them to 
grow up in the fear of God, and a belief in a Christ- 
ian creed.” 

“ You are right, wife. I agree with you.” 

“And I thought I’d get some Wesleyan cathe- 
cisms and have the children study a chapter through 
the week, to recite to me on Sundays. Sundays we 


THE BOBOLINK WITH A STRAW IN HIS BILL. 75 

will go over to the farm where there will be no 
interruption. I declare it has made me ashamed 
to see that child so well posted up about her faith 
and the Bible, and my children like young pa- 
gans. 

“ Your plan is a good one, I think, but you'll 
have some trouble breaking them in, I reckon. 
Anyhow, for heaven's sake, don't get into the wrong 
box by getting them catechisms that will addle their 
brains about *' total depravity,' ‘ predestination,' aud 
‘ once in grace you're never out ' stuff." 

“No, there's none of that in the Wesleyan cate- 
chism ; it hasn't even got the f thirty-nine articles' 
to trip them up." 

“That will be the best one for them, then, I 
expect. But, wife, I have a hankering to look over 
that book of Isabel's for my mother's sake. Do you 
know if it were not for the little Catholic prayer 
that she taught me when I was five years old, I 
should have forgotten her entirely ! " 

“ I'll get it for you to-morrow, wheu the children 
take their drive." 

“ That will be time enough. Oh ! declare that 
will never do ; just look at Gay !" exclaimed Mr. 
Machen, when attracted at the moment by shouts 
of laughter from the children, he turned and saw 
Gay making flying leaps over the backs of the boys 
in that delectable game known as leap-frog. One, 
two, three, four, over Alp's shaggy back, who stood 
in line with the rest, her short skirts fluttering, 
her hair streaming, her cheeks flaming, and her eyes 
wild with fun and excitement. 

“ She's going at it again ; call her, wife, when she 


76 


TOM-BOY. 


gets through. I cannot allow her to play a game 
like that,” said Mr. Machen, gravely. 

Mrs. Machen called Gay, and she came bounding 
up, laughing and trying to hold up the rents in her 
dress, which her performance had split in a dozen 
places. 

“ Gay, my daughter,” said her papa, putting his 
arm around her and drawing her to his side, “ that 
is not a nice game for girls, and I shall be very 
much displeased if I know you to play at it again.” 

“ Is it any .harm, papa ? ” 

“Not for boys, but it is not proper for girls.” 

“ If it’s no harm, I don’t see why I can’t play. 
I like leap-frog,” persisted Gay. 

“ I must be obeyed in this instance, my child. 
Kemember, it is not to be repeated. Will you 
promise.” 

“ Yes, papa, I will promise, and keep my promise, 
too, but I don’t see any harm in leap-frog all the 
same,” answered Gay, with a pout. But her par- 
ents took no notice, and presently they saw her 
going arm in arm with Isabel down to the south side 
of the garden, which was but seldom frequented by 
the family. Never at a loss for resources, when one 
project failed, Gay had another at hand, and telling 
Isabel, when she went back to where the boys were 
playing, that she had something to show her, led 
her away. The boys were too full of their fun to 
follow them, and they walked down and around the 
garden paths until they came to a high plank fence 
which separated Mr. Machen’s grounds from those 
of one of his neighbors on the other side. There 
was an old man on the other side whose garden ran 


THE BOBOLINK WITH A STRAW IN HIS BILL. 77 

right down to the fence, and he hud built ar hog-pen 
against it, from which issued sundry grunts and 
squeaks. 

“Now peep through, right here," said Gay, 
pointing to a crack of the fence. Isabel peeped 
through, and saw a large sow lying on her side, with 
twelve or fourteen pigs, plump, white little things, 
with pink ears, and tightly curled up tails, all root- 
ing, squealing and scrambling over each other to get 
at their favorite treat, while their mother lay there 
blinking her eyes and not minding them one bit. 

“Look, Isabel, that's my pig," said Gay, pointing 
to the whitest and plumpest one of the lot; and 
some day I mean to climb over and hold him in my 
arms a minute, he's such a little darling." 

“ Oh, don't, Gay, the old hog will bite you. One 
of papa's negro boys was nearly killed by doing 
the same thing ! " exclaimed Isabel, in a panic. 

“ Pshaw ! I'm not afraid. I’d give anything in 
the world for that piggy-wiggy." 

Then the two girls stood peeping through at the 
unreasonable greedy little animals, until it was 
time for them to go in ; but Gay noticed to her 
great joy that a narrow plank right against the hog- 
pen was loose, and she then and there determined if 
it didn't get looser it should not be her fault, but 
she kept her own counsel, and did not even tell the 
boys about the pigs. 

As she had planned, Mrs. Machen bought the 
catechism, and each one of the children, except 
Isabel, was required to study the first chapter by the 
following Sunday. The boys whistled, and said 
they “didn't see the use of it," that “they had 


.78 


TOM-BOY. 


lessons enough,” and that “ they were not going to 
be preachers,” but as no attention was paid to their 
grumbling, they obeyed. Gay rather liked it, be- 
cause she knew Isabel studied her catechism, and 
she liked to do everything, as far as studying went, 
that Isabel did. 

On the following Sunday Isabel went to early 
Mass with Mammy Bozier and returned in full 
time to join the party to Tanglebrake. They did 
not start until after breakfast, when the hampers 
which held their lunch and dinner being ready, 
they went down to the boat, and after a little delay 
caused by seating the party so as to trim the boat, 
they pushed off, Mr. Machen and one of his men 
rowing. The air was full of bird-songs and sunshine, 
the river was as bright as crinkled silver, and the 
tall grasses of the salt marshes stretching along the 
shore looked like fringes of green. Every now and 
then they heard the “ krake ” of the sedge-hen and 
the boys marked the spot to hunt up her nest the 
next day when the tide should be out far enough. 
The children were very happy; the boys had got 
their good conduct marks at school, and the 
pleasure it gave their parents added to their delight 
in thinking of the untold wonders of the menagerie, 
in fact the cup of their joy was full to overflowing. 
After the first scampering round was over, and 
everything was settled in order, Mrs. Machen told 
the boys that she wished them to come into the 
porch and look over their catechism before reciting 
their lesson ; so they tossed down their caps, and 
with their thoughts filled with tw r o bird nests they 
had found but not disturbed, and a squirrel with a 


THE BOBOLINK WITH A STRAW IN IIIS BILL. 79 

splendid bushy tail that was running up and down 
one of the old oaks in the lawn, they brought out 
some camp-stools and grouped themselves about 
the porch to look over their chapter in the catechism. 
But presently Charlie and Tom spied the squirrel 
and began to whisper ; there he was in the very tip- 
top of the tree nibbling an acorn, and it was more 
than boy flesh and blood could bear not to speak, 
but Mrs. Machen was up to the gravity of the 
situation and she meant the boys to understand that 
their catechism was different from other lessons, so 
she told Tom to take his camp-stool out under a 
willow tree near the porch, and attend to his chap- 
ter, until called. Charlie thus left alone, leaned 
his elbow on his knee, plunged his hand among his 
thick, brown curls, and leaning over, appeared lost 
in study. Gay was sitting by her mother, Dave 
was on the step demure and attentive, and Mr. 
Machen was at the far end of the porch, smoking a 
cigar, and pretending to read, but in reality watch- 
ing the proceedings. 

“ Come, Davy, my boy. Dll hear you first,” said 
Mrs. Machen. 

“ That's bully — I mean, mamma, I know every 
word.” 

Mrs. Machen took the catechism and asked the 
questions as they were arranged, which Davy 
answered glibly enough, until she came to the 
query ; “ Of what does the kingdom of heaven 

consist ? ” when Dave's attention was evidently aglee. 

“Of what does the kingdom of heaven, consist ?” 
repeated his mother, more impressively, to recall his 
wandering thoughts. 


80 


TOM-BOY. 


“I say, Dave ! there's a bobolink with a straw in 
his mouth, right there by the porch ! " shouted 
Charley, from under the willow. 

“ Where is he ?" shouted Dave, giving the pro- 
prieties to the winds in his excitement, for the 
bobolink had just come from the rice fields of the 
Carolinas, and this was the first one that had been 
seen. 

“ Dave, my son, be quiet this moment and 
answer me," said Mrs. Machen. 

“ There he goes up the honeysuckle vines, there ! 
there he is, he’s going to build there," screamed 
Charlie. 

The catechism class was demoralized, and they 
all ran, followed by Mrs. Machen herself, to see 
where the bobolink’s nest was. Mr. Machen, who 
had witnessed the whole scene, arose with a quiet 
twinkle in his eyes and went into his study, and 
when Mrs, Machen joined him an hour afterwards 
he inquired if the boys had got through with their 
catechisms. 

“Well, no," she answered frankly, “their heads 
are so full of squirrels and bird-nests and things, I 
thought it would be best to wait until we get home 
to-night. “ Tanglebrake " is always a holiday to 
them, and it was a mistake to bring them here to- 
day." 

“I think with you, but I’m afraid the young 
scamps will be under the impression, until they 
learn better, that the ‘ Kingdom of Heaven con- 
sists of a bobolink with a straw in his bill ! First 
impressions are ineffaceable you know." 

“ How can you ? " asked Mrs. Machen, while her 


THE BOBOLINK WITH A STRAW IN HIS BILL. 81 


face flushed. “ I was as bad as the boys in being 
carried away by the excitement. Never mind ! 
we’ll do better next time. I’m only glad that 
Isabel did not see the rout of my catechumens.” 

“ Isabel believes that the gates of hell cannot 
prevail against her faith ; what would she have 
thought to have seen our infant church scattered 
by a straw in the mouth of a bobolink ? I shouldn’t 
wonder if there’s something more than we dream of 
in the faith of ages.” 

“ We must learn before we can teach, that’s 
certain,” said Mrs. Machen thoughtfully. “ I can’t 
let my children grow up to be infidels.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


FIRE WORKS. THE MEHAGERIE. 

Up to this time Mrs. Machen had taught Gay her- 
self, who was really well advanced in the first sound 
rudiments of English and French. She had been 
through Comley's spelling book, first and second 
series, two or three times, for her mother thought it 
a matter of primary importance for children to 
know how to spell correctly, and understand the 
meaning of the words they spelt ; so after the spell- 
ing lesson was over, she assisted Gay in finding all 
the words in a dictionary, who wrote them down, 
with their definitions, in a ruled blank-book, and 
studied them afterwards. By this means she was 
introduced to the dictionary, which Dave had 
inspired her with a horror of, but did not find it at 
all the bug-bear that he had represented. Then she 
studied a little at a time rudimental grammar, 
geography, history, and arithmetic, and liked them 
all, except the latter, for she had no faculty for 
numbers, and hated her multiplication table worse, 
if anything, then she did hemming. Twice a week 
an irascible Italian gentleman came to give her 
iessons on the piano, and although the drudgery of 
learning the scales, time, and all that, was horrid, 
she had such a passionate love for music, that she 
curbed her impatience for the sake of being able to 
exercise her passion for harmony. 


FIRE WORKS. THE MENAGERIE. 


83 


But this home education would not answer for 
Isabel Forsyth, who was much farther advanced 
than Gay, and it was decided, after mature consider- 
ation, by her guardians, that she should be entered 
as a day pupil at the Visitation Convent, after the 
summer vacation, which was just begun. The con- 
vent was but a few squares off, and one afternoon Mr. 
and Mrs. Machen went there with a note of intro- 
duction to the Superior to inquire terms, learn the 
programme of their system of study, and become 
acquainted with the directress of the academy, under 
whose especial care their ward was to be placed. 
It was their first visit to the convent, and they had 
never seen a nun. The black grating between the 
reception room and the nuns* parlor chilled and 
gave them some hard Protestant thoughts, which 
took their coloring from things they had read and 
heard from time to. time about convents, but when 
Mother Veronica appeared, so pleasant, gracious, and 
kind was her manner, that they forgot all about the 
grating in the cheerful conversation that ensued. 
Then when they were invited to go through the 
academy, where they were introduced to the direct- 
ress, Sister Bernard, a woman of great intelligence 
and dignified manners, they were shown the arrange- 
ments of the house, with which they were charmed, 
the system of education at the academy was ex- 
plained to them, and they were deeply impressed with 
the vigilance and care which they saw was exercised 
both over the physical, moral, and intellectual life 
of the pupils. By the time they returned to the 
parlor Mr. Machen had made up his mind, that 
when Gay should be a year older, to enter her at the 


84 


TOM-BOY. 


convent as a day pupil, if her mother did not object. 
While they stood conversing with Mother Veronica 
and Sister Bernard, as they were about leaving, a 
priest — the pastor of St. Peter’s, came in, and was 
introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Machen as the Rev. 
Father Grayson. He was a small man, of about 
fifty, but there was an air of quiet dignity about him 
that made people forget his size, while his fine 
intellectual features, and snow-white hair, inspired 
every one with respect. His manner was grave, 
sweet and polished, and Mr. and Mrs. Machen were 
so favorably impressed by him, that on taking leave, 
they invited him to call and see their Catholic ward, 
and give them, at the same time, the pleasure of 
becoming better acquainted with him ; a courtesy 
to which Father Grayson responded by a cordial 
acceptance. Their visit to the convent, and its 
results, were highly agreeable, but they agreed that 
nothing should be said yet awhile to Gay and Isabel 
about future arrangements, for the children just 
about that time were all full of their holiday fun ; 
and there were two things they were anticipating 
with the most excited interest : the Fourth of July, 
which came on the following Tuesday, and the 
menagerie, with circus attached, which was to 
arrive in grand procession, and march all the way 
down the main street of the town, with music play- 
ing and flags flying. On Friday there were no end 
of reports flying round about the circus riders, 
monkeys, camels, lions, and tigers; and it was 
asserted that the big elephant, “ Columbus/’ was so 
high that he could easily take his dinner off the 
church roof, if he wanted to. One of Dave’s school 


FlliE WORKS. THE MENAGERIE. 


85 


chums, who had seen the show in Baltimore, not 
only told him about all its marvels, but taught him 
a circus song, which so tickled Dave's fancy, that 
when he had got the words and tune by heart, he 
painted his face one night, dressed himself up in 
Mammy Dozier’s scarlet cloak, brought from Ireland 
forty years before ; stuck a paper cap upon his head 
that was ornamented with a red feather and bits of 
mica, and glittering scraps of new tin, that jingled 
like little bells whenever he moved, and bounced 
into the sitting-room, where all the family happened 
to be gathered, where, after ducking his head to his 
knees in a grotesque bow, he began to roar out his 
song before anybody could make out who or what he 
was. It was a funny song, and Dave’s performance 
was greeted with hearty applause, which suddenly 
made him so ashamed that he ran off, pelted with 
sofa pillows by Tom and Gay, until he got clear of 
the room. Even quiet Isabel, who had as usual 
sheltered herself close beside Mrs. Machen, laughed 
in her low, sweet way, and got quite full of going 
to see the circus. 

But the Fourth of July was at hand, and the fire- 
works even yet to be bought; rockets, Catharine 
wheels, roman candles, spit-devils, and other de- 
lights of a pyrotechnic sort, over the selection of 
which there were long and excited discussions. Gay 
put in her half dollar, with positive injunctions to 
the boys to buy nothing but fire-crackers and spit- 
devils with it. “The other things,” she declared, 
“went too high up in the air to have fun with.” 

They were to go across the river to “Tangle- 
brake ” to spend the Fourth, and as Tom said, 


86 


TOM-BOY . 


“have high jinks generally.” Dave agreed to take 
his circus dress, and sing his funny song, and as by 
this time they could all join in the chorus, it was 
highly exciting. 

It rained all day on the third, and poured in such 
torrents all night that the young folks had gloomy 
foreboding that their fun was spoilt, but bless you ! 
the sun shone out on the morning of the Fourth as 
if he were already to lend his most unclouded splen- 
dors to the greatest day known in American history, 
the day of Independence ! No fire-worshippers of 
the old, old times, ever hailed his glorious appear- 
ance with greater transports of joy and delight than 
our happy young folks. 

“The rain was just right, and stopped just in 
time,” shouted Dave. 

“It has laid all the dust; it hasn't rained for so 
long, you know, that it was as dusty in the burnt 
grass over yonder, as in the streets,” said Tom. 

Charlie offered no remark, but with one of the 
sticks belonging to a sett of Grace-hoops in his 
hand, he raced up stairs, and ran it up and down 
over the Venetian doors of the girls' rooms, making 
such a frightful tattoo that they both sprang out 
of bed with scared countenances, wildly wondering 
what could be the matter. But Gay saw the golden 
sunshine flickering through the vines over her 
window, and she knew at once that it was one of 
the boys come up to awake herself and Isabel ; but 
Gay was full of ready resources, and she was not to 
be outdone now. She said nothing, but rummaged 
in her table drawer, and hauled out a water squirt 
that she took a fancy to buy one day to shoot hum- 


FIRE WORKS. THE MENAGERIE. 


87 


ming birds with; filled it from her pitcher, and 
opening the door just a little way without the 
slightest noise, she sent its contents right into 
Charlie’s face. 

He retreated laughing, but resolved that he 
would find or make an opportunity during the day 
to pay her up for her smartness. 

During the day the fireworks were all arranged 
for the evening and carefully laid away at the foot 
of a holly tree, near where Gay had placed her dolls 
so that they could see them go off in the evening. 

In the mean time she busied herself in making up 
packages of gunpowder which they proposed to use 
as bombs for the purpose of making a tremendous 
salute in honor of the day and as a surprise to the 
whole party. 

While she was thus engaged, a frog chanced to 
come hopping her way. She could not resist the 
temptation to capture it, and attach one of her 
bombs to its leg by a string, and then let it go, with 
the expectation that in the general explosion of the 
evening it would get blown up. 

Charlie noticed this, and resolved to make use of 
her own device to pay her up for the morning greet- 
ing she gave him. So quietly watching the direc- 
tion the frog had taken, he stole around among the 
brushwood, and succeeded in capturing it. He 
added to the bomb a piece of fuse; and, carrying 
the frog to the other side of the pile of fireworks, 
he lighted the fuse and sent the frog jumping 
away to the swamp in a line that brought him right 
among a pile of fire-crackers. 

At that moment the fuse had burned down to the 


88 


TOM-BOY. 


bomb and exploded it. Then there was a fizzing 
and sputtering and detonation that called all in the 
neighborhood to the scene, and sent them scamper- 
ing off as fast as they came. 

Charlie had scrambled up into a tree. Mr. 
Machen had run back out of reach of these erratic 
fireworks, which were holding a sort of indepen- 
dent free show, all to themselves. It was a good 
thing that the larger ones had been removed in 
time. 

“Tell me this minute, Gay, how it happened,” 
said Mrs. Machen, for once angry. 

Gay told her mother, and declared she wouldn’t 
have done it if she had known it was going to 
make such a row, and destroy her spit-devils, and 
scare everybody half to death. “Indeed, mamma, 
I was scared out of my senses,” she added. “Dave 
thought it was the greatest piece of fun he ever saw 
in all his life, and rolled over and over on the grass 
laughing; and Mrs. Machen, now that her fright 
was over, saw the ridiculous side of the affair, the 
fun of which was intensified by the appearance of 
the frog, who having followed them, in his panic, 
sat upon his haunches at a little distance, panting, 
and puffing, and wondering what it all meant. 
Isabel laughed as she had never laughed before, and 
her face a moment before blanched with fright, now 
gleamed with merriment ; Gay suddenly bethought 
herself of “Lady Ann,” and “Mrs. Madison,” and 
ran back to see what had become of them, but alas ! 
the proud “Lady Ann” was lying around in frag- 
ments, torn, burnt, scarred; while “Mrs. Madi- 
son ” had lost her face, her arms, her wig, and 


FIRE WORKS. THE MENAGERIE. 


89 


much of her saw-dust, and hung, a mutilated 
“ image of departed worth,” on a branch of the 
holly-tree. Gay bore the laugh against her good 
naturedly; she declared she “ didn’t care about 
Lady Ann, and Mrs. Madison, half as much as she 
did about Neb, and he was safe. Those two,” — 
pointing towards the dolls, “ were getting too much 
for me; they had me quite afraid of them, and were 
that jealous, they kept the whole Dollaby family in 
a stew from one week’s end to the other.” 

Mrs. Machen thought there was no use in preach- 
ing a moral discourse over an accident that had 
afforded so much amusement; in fact, she couldn’t 
have done it, had she been ever so much inclined, 
for Mr. Machen and Tom, and Charlie, who now 
joined them, heard the story and laughed until 
their sides ached over it. 

“ And to think, papa, that all my spit-devils and 
fire-crackers blew up ! ” said Gay, suddenly grave 
with a sense of her loss. 

“You must think twice, my dear, before you 
make bombs and set them off ; there’s no telling 
what may happen in such cases.” 

“With a frog to help,” said Charlie. “That’s 
for squirting water in a fellow’s face.” 

“Pshaw! I don’t care,” answered Gay, deter- 
mined, now that they had begun to twit her, not to 
show the white feather. “I’ll enjoy the others, all 
the same, won’t I, mamma ?” 

“Yes. It is a good thing they were* out of 
reach, or the pleasure of the whole evening would 
have been spoilt, and somebody perhaps seriously 
hurt. Come, Dave, go and dress-up; down there 


90 


TOM-BOY. 


where the lanterns give such a pretty bright light 
on your circus fixings, and let us have the comic 
song. By the time that’s over we’ll have more fire- 
works,” said Mrs. Machen. 

They all followed Dave and fixed themselves 
comfortably on such stumps and moss-grown roots 
as they could find, and presently the same grotesque 
figure that we have before described leaped out 
from behind a clump of young trees, and in a voice 
more remarkable for strength than sweetness, be- 
gan to sing: — 

Van Amburg is the man 
That goes with all the shows 

He goes into the lion’s den, 

And* tells you all he knows; 

He puts his head in the lion’s mouth, 

And keeps it there awhile, 

And when he takes it out again, 

He greets you with a smile. 

Chorus : — 

The elephant now goes round, 

The band begins to play, 

The boys around the monkey’s cage 
Had better keep away. 

First comes the famous white polar bear, 

Better known as the Ice-berg’s daughter, 

She’s been known to eat two tons of ice, 

Then call for soda-water. 

She’ll wade out in the water as far as her knees, 

Not fearing any harm, 

You may grumble and growl as much as you 
please, 

But she don’t care a yarn. 

Chorus:— 

The elephant now goes round, etc. 


FIRE WORKS. THE MENAGERIE. 


91 


Next comes the pet babboon, Emmeline, 
Catching flies and scratching her head, 

A-weeping and wailing all the day, 

Because her mate is dead. 

Poor, drooping water-lily, 

Of all her friends bereft ! 

That monkey’s making fun of her, 

With his right hand over his left. 

Chorus: — 

The elephant now goes round, etc. 

That monkey in the cage over there 
A-cuffing his little brother, 

You musn’t think hard of him, good folks, 

He learnt it from his mother. 

The skin of his face is drawn so tight, 

And covered all oyer with marks, 

That every time he laughs, he winks, 

And when he winks he barks. 

Chorus 

The elephant now goes round, etc. 

Next comes the boa-constrictor, 

Called ani-mi-condor, for brevity: 

He can swallow an elephant as well as a toad, 
And wink with great longevity. 

He can swallow himself all through himself, 
Come out with great facility, 

Can tie himself in a double bow-knot, 

Snap his tail with great agility. 

Chorus :— 

The elephant now goes round, etc. 

Last comes the condor, an awful bird ! 

From the highest mountain tops: 

He’s been known to eat up little boys, 

And then to lick his chops 


92 


TOM-BOY. 


But the performance can’t go on, 

There’s too much noise and confusion, 

Old woman ! stop giving that elephant nuts, 

You’ll ruin his constitution. 

Chorus : — 

The elephant now goes round, 

The hand begins to play, 

The boys around the monkey’s cage 
Had better keep away. 

— Anonymous. 

By the time Dave got through the first verse 
everybody got into the spirit of the thing, and 
joined in the chorus with a will. Mr. and Mrs. 
Machen, Isabel, Gay, the boys, and even darkey 
Will, who stood grinning behind a tree, chimed in, 
while Dave, quite inspirited by the pleasure of his 
audience, acquitted himself in first-rate showman 
style. Many of the farm negroes, attracted by the 
gay lights, and the sounds of singing and merri- 
ment, — things that the nature of their race find it 
always impossible to resist, — gathered around in 
dusky groups, and but for their shining eyes, and 
white, glistening teeth, would scarcely have been 
observed in the shadow. There was much laughing 
when the song ended, and the fire-works which 
followed immediately after proved a great success; 
there was no fizzling, no sputtering or ignominious 
going out, but up! sparkling! they sped in fiery 
trails through the air, and when at a certain height, 
they exploded, scattering showers of gold, red, blue, 
and yellow, that rivalled the stars for a moment, 
and vanished like spirits in the night. The Boman 
candles looked like fairy bubbles among the trees, 


FIRE WORKS. THE MENAGERIE. 93 

and the Catharine wheels went spinning around in 
circles of fire, making a grand display. By the 
time the last rocket flashed and fell, it was time to 
collect wrappings, and get things together to go 
down to the boats, and then, when at last they 
started homeward, the boys declared it was the 
jolliest day they had ever spent in their lives. Isabel 
was very tired, and it rested her to be silent, and 
watch the gradual lighting up of the waves as the 
moon rose slowly above the tree tops. Gay chat- 
tered as usual until they both got up to their rooms, 
where Aunt Winny was waiting for them. 

“ There ! put it in your rag-bag, Aunt Winny,” 
said Gay, tossing her frock to her. 

“De Lord save us! jest look! it's torn to pieces. 
I declar' if it ain't in ribbins. Look yere, chile! 
what you been doin' of over thar?” 

“ Shooting frogs up in the air.” 

“ I knowed you gone and done sump'n more'n 
or'nary; you has to; it's in your natur. I never did 
see sich a chile in my born days! What dat frog do 
to yon ? ” 

“Well, if you want to know, just stop talking 
and I'll tell you about it,” said Gay. Then she 
described her adventure in so ridiculous a manner, 
that Aunt Winny laughed until she had to hold her 
sides, and when she recovered her breath a little, 
told Gay that she was “'joiced to hear that them 
two witches, Lady Ann and Missis Madison, was 
done for, case she always ’sidered 'em puffect pests. 

Thursday about nine o’clock the grand circus and 
menagerie entered the town. All the Machens went 
to their father's law-office, and stationed themselves 


94 


TOM-BOY. 


at the second story windows, where they saw all the 
wonderful sights as they passed by. The scarlet 
and gold car drawn by twenty white and cream 
colored horses, filled with musicians all blowing, 
and tooting, and beating a drum as big as a house; 
the camels, real camels with real humps upon their 
backs; ten lovely Shetland ponies; a great high car 
with a canvass cupola on top where the giraffes 
were; the monkey car with. hundreds of monkeys in 
it; the car with the African lions; then the ele- 
phant “Columbus,” with a black spangled cloth 
cover thrown over him, which did not however 
hide his tremendous flapping ears, his terrible white 
tusks, and that long proboscis with a finger and 
thumb at the end of it. He was followed by two 
smaller elephants, small only by comparison. Then 
came the tiger cage, and horrible to relate, there 
was a man sitting on the top of it, dressed in green 
velvet clothes all covered with gold spangles, who 
had a real live tiger crouched at his feet! After 
this, about fifty cars, with animals, wax-works, a 
giant, a woman with a beard, and a fat woman 
without a beard, all drawrn by such horses as were 
never seen before, black, dappled, white, and 
marbled, of beautiful shapes, with magnificent 
manes and tails, that reared their heads, and arched 
their necks, and pranced along as if keeping time 
with the music. 

The whole town turned out to see the show, old 
men and women, boys, girls, gentlemen and ladies, 
darkies without number, and nurses of every shade 
and class, holding babies in their arms; and it was 
astonishing that night at the performance, to see 


FIRE WORKS. THE MENAGERIE. 95 

how many grown people it required to take care of 
two or more children. 

There are very few people in these days of pro- 
gress, who have not seen a menagerie and circus; 
but things sometimes happen to the people who 
attend them that are not put down in the bills, 
which are more amusing than the show itself. 
Some such things befell the Machens, who had an 
early tea the evening they went, so as to be in time. 
There was no loitering, depend on it, and they 
started in the following order: Mr. and Mrs. 
Machen and Dave, Isabel and Gay, Charles and 
Tom (who had been studying up natural history all 
day), and Mammy Dozier, holding Theresa by the 
hand, who could scarcely be kept within bounds; 
while Mammy Dozier, who had never seen a wild 
animal in her life, had serious misgivings, and felt 
nervous in a way that relieved itself by snubbing 
and shaking the irrepressible young woman, 
who heeded it about as much as a duck minds 
water. 

There was a building in the lower end of the 
town, quite a distance from Mr. Machen’s house, 
which was in the northwestern suburbs, that had 
been erected for the accommodation of such exhibi- 
tions as they were going to see; and for the better 
understanding of what happened after they got 
there, I will give you a rough ground-plan of the 
Hippodrome, as it was called: — 


96 


TOM-BOY . 



When Mr. Machen and his party entered, there 
were a great many persons already walking up and 
down, inspecting the ferocious creatures in the 
cages ; the larger crowd, as usual, being around 
the monkeys, who were going through their cus- 
tomary absurd gyrations. Just when they got half 
way up, on the left side, where the lions and tigers 
were, men came in bringing great baskets filled 
with raw meat to feed the animals, who no sooner 
got the scent of blood, than with one accord they 
broke out into the most frightful roars and yells, 


FIRE WORKS. TIIE MENAGERIE. 


97 


romping about their cages, and lashing their tails 
as if they meant to get out in spite of the iron 
bars, and eat everybody up. Mrs. Maclien was 
terrified, and Isabel clung to her, as white as a 
ghost ; while Mammy Dozier, shrieking wildly, 
threw her arms around Mr. Machen, perfectly be- 
side herself with fright. Gay and Theresa, noth- 
ing daunted, marched up to see the ravenous 
creatures feed, while the boys were perfectly en- 
chanted at the row. Mammy Dozier insisted on 
going right off home, declaring she would die if 
she staid another minute ; but as the growls and 
horrible outcries died away as soon as the usual 
allowance of raw flesh was thrown into the cage, 
she grew more and more composed ; and after Mr. 
Machen had assured her there was not the least 
danger, and that they were too far from home for 
her to go back alone, she took a pinch of snuff, and 
put on her spectacles — not to look at the animals, 
but to peer around in search of a place of refuge. 
Her heart was gladdened when she saw the tiers of 
seats, rising one above the other, at the upper end 
of the hippodrome, and seizing Theresa by the arm, 
she said : “ Come along with me, you minx ; I 

won't have such behavior." 

“ I aint adoin' nothing, Miss Dozier, 'deed I aint. 
I was only looking at the white bear," argued 
Theresa, her black eyes shooting sparks. 

“ Come along this minit ; scrouging in there 
with all them ragamuffins." 

“Dave and Gay's there, anyhow." 

“Come along, and no more sass." 

All this time Mammy Dozier was edging her way 


98 


TOM-BOY. 


along through the crowd, keeping an arm's length 
between her and the cages, and pulling her unwill- 
ing companion along, fully intent on getting on 
those benches, as near the ceiling as she could 
climb ; but as she approached the recess where the 
elephants were, “ Columbus," with an oriental sad- 
dle on his back, marched out and like to have 
walked right over her. With another scream she 
threw herself against a cage of chimpanzees, one of 
which, swinging himself down by his tail, thrust 
out his hand, and snatching lier quaint old black 
bonnet from her head, hauled it in between the bars, 
where, assisted by his impish companions, they held 
high revel over it, as they tore it into a thousand 
shreds, with antics and grimaces that threw the 
people crowding around into convulsions of laughter. 

Meanwhile the monstrous elephant “Columbus” 
marched majestically on down the broad aisle, while 
the band played a grand march ; and a man glitter- 
ing all over with gold lace and spangles reposed 
gracefully on the huge creature’s long ivory tusks, 
while his keeper, dressed in loose Turkish trousers 
and black velvet jacket embroidered with gold braid, 
a red net sash about his waist, a white turban on his 
head, and a sharp-pointed spear in his hand, walked 
by his side. Mammy Dozier had by this time 
scrambled up to the very topmost seat, where she 
felt safe enough to regale herself with another pinch 
of snuff and fan herself, while Theresa was so wild 
with delight at all she saw passing, that she told 
Gay afterwards she “knew she could have flew by 
throwing out her arms and flapping, if that horrid 
old witch had only let go her arm.” 


EIRE WORKS. TI1E MENAGERIE. 99 

When the elephant oame marching back, his 
keeper halted him just about midway the aisle, and 
proclaimed in a loud voice that “if any boys and 
girls present wanted to take a ride on the elephant, 
they could come forward ! ” 

Of course about a hundred boys rushed to the 
front, but only twenty could be seated by close 
crowding in the saddle, which was like the inside 
of an octagon-shaped car, all padded, cushioned, 
and fringed in gorgeous style ; but they were 
brought to a sudden standstill as to how they were 
to mount, and thought they were fooled, until the 
keeper told them to stand back while the elephant 
knelt ,d<*wn. The huge creature, obeying a touch of 
the spear point, flapped his great ears, threw up his 
trunk, and bent his fore-legs, uttering an outcry 
like forty-thousand trumpets, which every one of 
the caged beasts accompanied by distracting roars, 
in a chorus that seemed as if it must raise the roof 
off. The anvil chorus at the “Peace Jubilee” was 
nothing to it. Not only did the wild, ferocious 
animals give forth their desert and jungle roars, 
but every little child there, — and there were hun- 
dreds, — shrieked a shrill treble in the savage con- 
cert. 

But it meant nothing, except that the effort re- 
quired to get his immense body in a kneeling pos- 
ture made “ Columbus ” raise such a rout, his fore- 
legs once doubled under, he had no trouble in 
bringing his hind-legs squarely down, and all was 
ready. The keeper let down some nice little steps 
in the side of the saddle, and up trooped the boys 
laughing, chatting, and pushing each other, as boys 


100 


TOM-BOY . 


like to do whenever a chance oilers ; the band 
struck up “ Hail Columbia/' the elephant felt the 
touch of a sharp point on his flank, and in his effort 
to rise not only blew off his ten thousand concen- 
trated trumpets again, but came near pitching the 
boys backwards, heels over head out of the saddle. 
But now he was squarely on his ponderous feet, and 
off he marched up and down the long aisle, the band 
still playing, and the boys on his back waving their 
caps and hurrahing until they were out of breath. 
This performance was repeated four times. The 
fourth time Mr. Machen yielded to the entreaties 
of his boys, and allowed them to mount, and they 
declared, even after they were men grown that 
they never expected to feel so happy or so proud 
again as long as they lived. 

After this came the circus riding by men and 
monkeys, the men in glittering dresses, and 
mounted on splendid horses ; and the monkeys on 
little swift ponies about the size of Newfoundland 
dogs ; and they with the clown made great fun in 
the ring. Then they all trotted out behind the 
curtain on the right, and from the opposite recess a 
smaller elephant, without any trappings, was 
brought into the ring, where the clown was master 
of ceremonies. The elephant marched solemnly 
around, as serious and well-behaved a beast as was 
ever seen, and the clown, with a good natured grin, 
said: “ Little boys! this is the tamest elephant 
in the world. It was raised on cow's milk and is as 
gentle as a calf, and if any of you would like to ride 
round the ring on his back, come on ; his back is 
broad and you can hold on to each other. That's 


FIRE WORKS. THE MENAGERIE. 101 


right ! ” said the clown, boosting first one and then 
another urchin up until there was no more room, 
and the elephant started off decorously with his 
load. Nothing happened until he got half way 
round the second time, when he suddenly gave his 
loose hide a violent shake that tumbled every boy 
down pell-mell into the tan. The. clown declared 
that some of the boys must have stuck the elephant 
with a pen-knife or something, and inveigled 
another set to mount, but the same thing happened. 
This did not, however, prevent others from trying 
it for themselves who thought they could hold on 
better than the others, but bless you, that elephant 
knew his business, and dumped them down when 
the time came, like a load of potatoes, while shouts 
of laughter greeted each disaster. 

Mr. and Mrs. Machen had quite a hunt for 
Mammy Dozier and Theresa, and began to think 
they had gone home, when happening to look up, 
they saw the two perched up on the high seats, and 
sent Charlie to tell them they were all going. 

“ What in the world has the old woman done with 
her bonnet ? ” asked Mr. Machen. 

“1 can’t imagine. Perhaps she took it off to 
cool her head,” answered his wife. 

But Mammy Dozier enlightened them on their 
way home in brief, sharp sentences, and asked Mr. 
Machen to get her carried to the Insane Asylum 
next day, as she knew that her brain was addled 
with the scares she had got. She almost swore 
when she came to the part about the chimpanzees 
and her bonnet, and declared that nothing on earth 
could ever persuade her that the great beast that 


TOM-BOY. 


102 

made such an unearthly noise wasn’t the evil one 
himself. The children were walking together a 
little way behind, laughing and talking merrily over 
all they had seen and heard ; each one of them had 
something to relate that the others had missed ; 
while Mammy Dozier was pouring out her pent-up 
anger and fright by freely relating all she had suf- 
fered to her indulgent friends, who under cover of 
the darkness laughed with impunity at her way of 
putting things. Theresa was' telling about the chim- 
panzees and all the rest of it, while the others hud- 
dled close around her, laughing under their breath, 
out of respect to Mammy Dozier they thought, but 
in reality because none of them ever cared to pro- 
voke her ire, having on various occasions experi- 
enced the sting of her hand — when suddenly there 
was a great glare in the sky, and alarm-bells began 
to toll in every direction. Flame-burnished clouds 
of smoke hung over the northwest part of the city, 
while now and then millions of sparks surged up 
with fresh volumes of smoke, and innumerable 
pigeons were flying blindly to and fro in the fiery 
glow. 

“It is in the direction of our house, wife,” 
whispered Mr. Machen. 

“ 0, God forbid that it should be our- home ! 
Walk faster, my children,” she said, quickening her 
own steps. 

Just then a calf broke loose from somewhere, and 
wild with terror, came bounding down the sidewalk, 
and rushed through the midst of the young folks, 
bleating piteously. Dave and Theresa were upset 
in the gutter, and Mammy Dozier, who was never 


FIRE WORKS. THE MENAGERIE. 


103 


convinced to her dying day that it was not a tiger 
out of the menagerie, took to her heels and never 
stopped till she reached home, where she fell 
exhausted ou the porch steps. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE FIRE AND WHAT HAPPENED. 

Dave overheard what his mother said, and whis- 
pered it to the other children, who, as the thought 
of their pleasant home being destroyed by fire and 
nothing left of all its beauty except heaps of black- 
ened ruins, presented itself to their minds, felt a 
great dread creep over them ; their chatter just now 
so full of glee and mirth, ceased, and they followed 
their father and mother who were walking rapidly, 
with quickened footsteps, while the fiery glare, 
increasing every instant, not only lit up all the 
houses and steeples, but tinged the clouds that were 
sailing high up in the sky, with crimson and yellow ; 
then the engines drawn by hundreds of men in red 
blouses and helmets, who appeared half wild with 
excitement, went dashing by with deafening clatter, 
after, which the streets grew comparatively quiet, 
for everybody had gone to see the fire. 

“I wonder, though, what you are sniffling about, 
Gay ? ” said Tom, trying to speak bravely, to keep 
back his own tears, but his voice shook, and if any- 
body had looked into his own face, he would have 
seen that it was very pale, “Crying don’t help 
things.” 

“Who said I was crying;” answered Gay; “I 
was only thinking of poor Neb ; he’ll be burnt up.” 

“ Then there will be some roast goose ; ” put in 


THE FIRE AND WHAT HAPPENED. 105 


Charlie ; “ and you can eat it for your supper. You 
ought to be ashamed to be crying over a gosling, 
when there is so much more to cry for.” 

“ Fm not crying, I tell you, and I’ll be sorry for 
Neb just as much as I please. How do you know 
what I’m thinking about,” said Tom-boy, always 
ready for a fray. 

“ Oh, thank God ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Machen, 
stopping, as they turned into a street from which 
they had a view of their house; “Our home is 
safe.” 

Yes, it was safe, and the fire was at least four 
squares distant ; safe, but illuminated from garret to 
basement with the dazzling glow of the fiery splen- 
dor. The windows gleamed, as if plated with gold ; 
the trees and vines were flecked with red, and every 
leaf and spray shone as if under some spell of 
magic. 

“ I will leave you here, wife, and go see what is 
burning,” said Mr. Machen ; “ that is, if you are 
not afraid to go home alone.” 

“ No, I am not afraid, but don’t stay long,” she 
answered. 

“ May I go, father ? And I ? ” asked Charlie and 
Tom. 

“Yes, come along. We’ll be back in a little 
while, wife.” 

“ Let me go too, father ? ” plead Dave, “ I never 
was at a fire.” 

“No, my man, yon must stay and take care of 
your mother and sisters.” 

“ They ain’t afraid ; they can take care of them- 
selves,” said Dave, not at all elated at the honor 


106 


TOM-BOY . 


thrust upon him ; he did not see the good of staying 
there when there was so much to be seen, for he 
had nothing of the make-up of a Palidin or a story- 
book good boy about him, and would much rather 
have gone to the fire. 

But his father and brothers were out of sight, 
and he did not in the least show a sense of his 
dignity as protector-elect of the party, for he 
indulged in a series of growls, to the amusement of 
Gay and Theresa, all the way home. Gay would like 
to have gone also, but she was so entranced with the 
glorified aspect of everything, that she imagined, she 
was entering an enchanted palace built in their 
absence by the “ slaves of the lamp,” with jewelled 
windows, trimmings of gold, red velvet hangings, 
ivory furniture, and a roc's egg hanging from the 
ceiling of every room. When the hall door was 
opened for them, Isabel had a nervous chill from 
fright and excitement, and shook so that she could 
scarcely stand, but Mrs. Machen made her drink 
some wine, and sent for Aunt Winny to go with her 
to her room. Mammy Dozier seemed to think that 
the fire, although it was some four squares off, 
nobody knew where, “ was caused by them horrid 
wild beasts, " and her never-to-be-forgotten visit to 
the menagerie, and talked herself hoarse about the 
wickedness of all such things, after which she boxed 
Theresa's ears, who was laughing, and shut herself 
up in her room. 

It was after eleven o'clock ; Dave was nodding and 
even Gay showed signs of sleepiness, and Mrs. 
Machen sent them to bed, while she remained in the 
dining-room, waiting for her husband and the boys. 


THE FIRE AND WHAT HAPPENED. 107 


But twelve o'clock struck, and they had not come ; 
she began to grow uneasy, and going to the front 
door, opened it softly, and looked up and down the 
street, which appeared perfectly deserted. Every 
ordinary sound was hushed, and she could distinctly 
hear the working of the engines and the dull blow of 
the axes in the hands of the firemen ; then all of a 
sudden there was a crash and rumbling, and great 
volumes of red smoke, with millions of sparks shot 
swiftly into the air, while at the same time she heard 
a roar of voices in wild confusion, and judged that a 
wall had fallen. Mrs. Machen was a brave woman, 
but alone at midnight, with those fearful sights and 
sounds so near, and her boys and their father over 
there, exposed probably to perils that being unfore- 
seen, could not be guarded against, was nearly 
unnerved and full of strange dread ; she was 
tempted to go herself, to be satisfied of their safety. 
But how would she be able to find them in that 
confused mass of people, when engines were playing 
and hundreds of firemen, only intent on getting the 
flames under, heeded nothing that stood in their 
way ? She went back, determined not to make her- 
self miserable, without reason. She knew that Mr. 
Machen would not remain there, unless he had good 
cause to do so ; why, then should she fear for her 
lads while he was there to protect them. Perhaps 
women and children had been rescued from the 
burning house, and required attention and help 
from the bystanders, who were not actively engaged 
in extinguishing the fire, in which case she knew 
that neither he nor his boys would be idle lookers- 
on, if they could lend assistance. So she reasoned 


108 


TOM-BOY. 


herself into calmness and began to read, but pre- 
sently the hall-clock struck oke and the sound went 
reverberating and ringing through the deserted house 
with an ominous distinctness, that made her 
tremble. She laid down her book and listened. 
She still heal'd the dull thud of the engines but 
could see through the window, that the fiery glare 
that had made everything as bright as day, had 
faded. The fire had evidently been got under, and 
she knew that they would be home soon. Thinking 
they would be hungry, she went to the pantry, and 
brought out some cold beef, bread and butter, a 
peach-pie, and some pickles, which she placed on 
the table. As long as she was doing something for 
them, she was content, but when she sat down again 
and tried to read, she found it impossible to do so, 
and leaning her head back on the chair, she closed 
her eyes. There was nothing for her to do, but to 
wait, which she did, hoping every instant to hear 
the sound of their footsteps, until the old clock 
struck the half-hour. Half-past one ! She could 
bear it no longer, and went once more to the hall- 
door, and looked out, but everything was dark ; 
heavy clouds were in the sky, she heard nothing 
except the engine pumps still at work. Where 
were her husband and boys ? Where were they 
when that wall fell ? Her heart sunk as if some- 
thing cold had touched it, and she began to tremble ; 
she felt that she could not bear such suspense 
another moment, but must go in search of them. 
She ran in to get her shawl, which she had thrown 
off in the hall when they got home from the men- 
agerie, and snatching it from the chair she wrapped 


THE FIRE AND WHAT HAPPENED. 109 


it around her, and was about going out into the 
darkness alone, when the thought suddenly pre- 
sented itself to her, that perhaps they had started 
home, and she might miss them. She drew back 
and stood irresolute and frightened on the porch, 
when the clock struck two, then drawing the shawl 
over her head, she hesitated no longer, but ran 
down the steps to the pavement ; but before she 
had advanced farther than the front of her own 
house, she heard voices ; she stopped to listen ; the 
voices which had been low and subdued, ceased; 
but she knew their footsteps — she knew them every- 
one. Mr. Machen’s firm, even tread ; Charlie's 
light, quick footfall ; and Tom’s shoe-soles scrap- 
ing as usual as he walked ; they were safe, and 
fearing they might be alarmed finding her there, 
she ran lightly up the steps and went into the din- 
ing-room, where she sunk perfectly overcome in a 
corner of the sofa, but her ears were strained to 
catch every sound. They were not talking as they 
entered the house, and when Mr. Machen said in an 
undertone: “ Be quiet, my boys, I don’t want 
your mother disturbed,” she thought there was 
something unusual in the sound of his voice. They 
then crept along the hall, and when they came into 
the dining-room, where they saw a light was burn- 
ing, there she was, with her face very white, and 
her eyes full of unnatural excitement, waiting for 
them ; but she could only hold out her arms and 
say : “l am glad you have come at last.” 

In an instant the boys had their arms around her, 
their faces against hers, as she strained them in 
speechless joy to her own breast, and thus holding 


110 


TOM-BOY. 


their warm living selves in her embrace, while a full 
sense of their safety thawed the chill of her veins, 
she could have shaken off all the agonized anxiety 
of the last few hours, had she not felt that their 
cheeks were drenched with tears. She looked up 
into the face of Mr. Maclien, who stood close by, 
and saw that it was pale and grave; it all happened 
in a minute, although it takes a little longer to tell 
it. 

“ I was afraid you would sit up, wife; ” he said, 
sitting down by her, and drawing her head tenderly to 
his breast; “what an anxious time you must have 
had here, all by yourself.” 

“I was very uneasy, but I am happy now, know- 
ing that you are all safe. But let me pour you out 
a glass, of wine, then you and the boys eat some- 
thing — you must be half-famished; afterwards tell 
me about the fire, and why you stayed so long.” 

“That is sound advice; come my boys, your 
mother always knows what is best for us,” said Mr. 
Machen, “let us eat something.” 

Having done so, Mr. Machen said: “We, the 
boys and I, have passed through terrible scenes 
to-night, — such as I hope never to witness again 
while I live. You know “The Farmer’s Rest” 
tavern, wife, a large, well-kept house, for the accom- 
modation of the country folk who bring their 
produce to our market; with numerous stables and 
a big wagon yard, near the edge of town? ” 

“Yes; surely it is not burnt?” 

“There is nothing left of it but smoking ruins. 
But that is not the worst part of it. Seven fine 
young fellows — firemen — who had gone into the 


THE FIRE AND WHAT HAPPENED. Ill 


bu rning house to rescue one or two wagoners who 
were said to be sleeping there, and who were known 
to have gone to bed stupefied with drink, were 
instantly killed by the falling of the outside wall; 
it fell in, burying them under blazing rafters, and 
several thousands weight of bricks; it fell, crashing 
down without warning; and had it fallen outwards 
instead of the way it did, hundreds of persons 
would have been killed. Several were badly hurt, 
as it was, by the heavy debris that was hurled into 
the street when the wall went down.” 

“ I heard it when it fell,” answered Mrs. Machen 
in a low voice. 

“There was an instant rush and confusion 
towards the spot — a wild surging of white, eager 
faces — and such a roar of horror as curdled the 
blood,” said Mr. Machen, whose voice trembled at 
the recollection of something that had quite 
unmanned him; “and then I missed the hoys — the 
pressure of the crowd had separated us. I looked 
everywhere; I asked every one I met, where they 
were; I could not find them, and no one could give 
me the least tidings of them; a man who knew them 
told me that he saw Charlie near the wall when it 
fell. I knew if Charlie was there Tom must have 
been close beside him. I was really half distracted, 
and could not remember how we were separated. I 
only recollected that there were two distinct crashes, 
one immediately after the other, the wall having 
fallen in two sections, then I found that the boys 
and I were separated, and I was certain they had 
been carried under the blazing ruins. No time was 
lost by the people in their efforts to clear away the 


112 


TOM-BOY. 


heavy beams and heaps of hot bricks, to search for 
the men, in the hope that some, at least of them, 
might be living. It was desperate work; but the 
engines threw very steady streams of cold water on 
the ruins, and hundreds of men were busy with 
picks, shovels and axes, as heedless of the water as 
of the hot rubbish that scorched their shoes off 
their feet; and, when at last they came to the 
bodies of the poor young fellows, and carried their 
charred, mangled remains into a house near by, I 
followed to see if my boys were among them, and 
the thought of you, wife, and how I should be able 
to bring you such news, drove me nearly frantic. I 
could hardly force my way in, and when I did, I saw 
a sight that nearly made me faint, man as I am. 
There was no semblance of humanity on that table, 
but distorted, crushed, blackened forms, without 
features and without shape, that might have been 
men or boys, for there was nothing to judge by. 
The clothing of some of them was not much burnt, 
but only scorched, and people were busy looking 
for marks on their garments, by which to identify 
them. At last some one said in the breathless 
silence; “ here is something with a mark, M-a-c. 
the rest is scorched out.” I heard a loud cry near 
me; I knew the voice; it was Charlie, there; he 
thought I had been killed when the wall fell in, 
and that it was my body, just as I thought it might 
be him or Tom. They had been searching for me 
everywhere through the crowd, and how we had 
missed each other I can’t tell ; but there they were at 
last ; we all had been standing only a few feet apart, 
hiddeil from each other by a press of people — ” Mr. 


THE FIRE AND WHAT HAPPENED. 113 


Machen broke off abruptly, quite overcome with emo- 
tion, and the two lads made no pretence of conceal- 
ing their tears. 

“I could not speak — ” he continued, presently; 
“I forced my way towards them, and drawing 
them close to me I left the dreadful scene, filled 
with gratitude to God for the safety of my own 
flesh and blood, even while my heart was wrung at 
the sudden fate of the brave, young fellows who 
lost their lives in the noble effort to serve others. 
AVe must look after those they have left, for some 
of them may be old and needy, or too young to help 
themselves.” 

“ That is the best we can do to show our grati- 
tude to Heaven,” said Mrs. Machen, putting her 
arms around her boys, as she stood between them, 
and drew their heads close to her bosom. 

“And, mother, there were ten horses burnt to 
death, and seven cows; and hundreds of pigeons,” 
said Charlie. 

“Poor things! could they not be gotten out?” 
she asked. 

“ Some were, but they were so wild with fright, 
that they ran rearing and plunging back, right into 
the fire; papa says they always do so.” 

“ Look here, mother, don't you remember all the 
pigeons we saw flying away at first, when we were 
coming home; and that calf that upset Dave and 
Theresa in the gutter? A boy told me that they 
belonged to the tavern, and that the calf had broken 
away, and ran off down the street.” 

Just then an apparition appeared at the door that 
made them all smile. It was Mammy Dozier, in 


114 


TOM-BOY . 


her short gown and petticoat; with a wide, frilled 
night-cap on her head, and a pair of red list slip- 
pers on her feet, who, having been disturbed by 
the talking down stairs, thought burglars were in 
the house, and came down with the nursery tongs 
in her hand, but she was so astonished by seeing Mr. 
and Mrs. Machen, and the boys up, and sitting 
around a lunch at that late hour, that she stopped 
short, staring at them with wide, open eyes, unable 
to utter a word. Mr. Machen thought she had 
already had excitement enough, and only told her, 
without giving any particulars, that he and the lads 
went to the fire, and had not been long home; an 
explanation which did not at all satisfy her as to 
the unusual circumstance of the family being up, 
and having a cold supper at that hour. She asked, 
in a severe tone, “ what had been burnt down/’ and 
“ if the boys were going to bed; and if they expected 
to sleep all day to make up for being awake all 
night ?” 

“And I do think, Mrs. Machen, it was a very 
foolish thing in you to be witch- watching, and you 
subject to sick-headaches, too. I don’t b’lieve but 
the elephants and tigers have set everybody aglee,” 
she added, with a snap of her eyes at Mr. Machen. 

“ I am very sorry you were disturbed, mammy ; 
you are right about late hours; come, my lads, go 
off to bed,” said Mr. Machen, pressing them both in 
his arms, and kissing them when they said “good- 
night,” never having known before how infinitely 
dear they were to him, until he had passed through 
all the agony of having really lost them. 

Nothing was talked of in the house next day but 


THE EIRE AND WHAT HAPPENED. 115 


the fire, and all that had happened there, and 
Mammy Dozier almost cried her poor old eyes out, 
when she had heard about Mr. Machen and the boys; 
in fact, her warm, Irish heart was so softened, by 
hearing the sad details of the event, that she neither 
slapped Theresa, nor mentioned the elephant the 
entire day. 

Isabel was quite indisposed for several days, and 
obliged to keep her room ; but every one was so 
kind to her that she was in good spirits, and rather 
enjoyed it, as she had no fever or severe pains, her 
only ailment being a weak sort of trembling that 
came over her now and then. Charlie brought her 
a beautiful ship, all rigged out with sails, that he 
had make with his pen-knife, and painted green and 
white, with the word “Hope” in gilt letters on 
her stern. Isabel thought it the most beautiful 
thing she ever saw, and was quite crazy to get out 
to see her sail in the basin of the fountain, where 
Tom told her it rocked like a real ship on the sea. 
Tom lent her his squirrel, that was usually fastened 
by a delicate, steel chain to his button-hole, and 
slept in his pocket. Dave brought her wild flowers, 
of which she was very fond, and Gay told her no 
end of real fairy tales, at least Gay thought they 
were real. Then Aunt Winny or Mammy Dozier 
were always bringing her fruit, and other nice 
things, so daintily fixed, that if she didn’t eat them, 
she could admire them ; and to crown all, Mrs. 
Machen used to bring her sewing and sit there 
chatting, telling them agreeable things, or reading 
a lovely story to her. Mr. Machen used to look in 
on her every day, to ask how she was, and tell her 


116 


TOM-BOY. 


to “ make haste and get well and the very first 
time she got down stairs. Father Griffin called. 
The boys were very shy of him at first ; they had an 
idea that they must be very solemn in the presence 
of a minister ; then, somehow or other they didn’t 
care about speaking to a Catholic priest, but while 
they sat round quietly, watching him askance, he 
was so genial, and kind, and spoke to them so 
courteously, “just as if they were gentlemen,” 
Charlie said, afterwards, and so before they knew 
where they were, they were telling him about their 
boats, and games, as freely as if they had known him 
all their lives, and were perfectly delighted when 
they found he could tell them more about the 
rules of “ bat-and-ball,” and “prisoner’s base,” and 
angling, than they knew themselves ; which had 
inspired them with an immense respect for him. 
“Then, -too,” said Charlie, “he didn’t pitch in and 
ask us if we ‘ were good boys,’ and ‘read the 
Bible,’ and ‘ minded our parents,’ or ‘ever told 
lies,’' or ‘ broke the Sabbath,’ and make us feel 
awful ; he’s a jolly good man, and the kind of 
preacher that I like.” 

“ And I too,” struck in Gay, “for he just laughed 
until he shook, when Isabel told him about that 
night at the menagerie, and drew me into telling 
him about the frog and the fire-crackers, the 4th of 
July. He didn’t seem to think I was a bad girl, or 
a Tom-boy either.” 

“ He was mistaken about the Tom-boy part,” 
observed Tom, gravely, and got his ear pulled on 
the spot, until he screamed “done ! done !” while 
the rest laughed ; and Gay was satisfied. She was 


THE FIRE AND WHAT HAPPENED. 117 


getting to be a little ashamed of being called Tom- 
boy ; and although she was still brimming over 
with fun, and was as impetuous as the wind, Isabel's 
gentle, sweet manners were beginning to exercise an 
indefinable influence over her. Not that Gay ever 
felt her pranks to be wrong, but because she 
admired her so much, and she was so different from 
herself, that she often wished that her fairy god- 
mother would come and touch her with her wand to 
make her like Isabel, for she was yet a firm believer 
in fairies. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE LITTLE WHITE PIGGIE — THE FIRST SIN. 

It was a very sad day in Westover town, the day 
of the firemen’s funeral. The stores were closed 
along the route of the procession, and the sidewalks 
were filled with people whose grave, sorrowful faces 
showed how much the event affected them. There 
were seven hearses, each hearse bearing a coffin 
covered with flowers, and followed by the relations 
and friends of the deceased, for, after the fire it be- 
came known who were missing, and where those 
who were missing were last seen, and so their 
friends found out the loss of their near and dear 
ones. Then came the fire-engines, all draped with 
black; then the two fire-companies, with each 
member wearing black crape upon the left arm; two 
bands of music played solemn requiems, and the 
church bells tolling in time with the bells in the 
steeples of the engine-houses, mingled their notes 
together, making a dirge in the air that touched 
every heart, and made many a tear to flow. The 
families of the unfortunate who had been left desti- 
tute, were provided for. The private influence of 
Mr. Machen, with his own generous contribution to 
the fund for their relief, and the ungrudging assist- 
ance of the sympathizing community, rescued 
them from poverty and dependence, until such 
time as they could help themselves. The events of 


THE LITTLE PIGGIE—TIIE FlBST SIN. 119 

that dreaded night had a salutary effect not only on 
the Machen lads, but on others of their age, to 
whom “ running with the engine”* had been a 
great fascination; it destroyed in them all any in- 
clination ever to witness another fire, or be par- 
takers in the reckless and adventurous exploits of 
firemen; while at the same time it raised in their 
hearts a manly sentiment of humanity and sym- 
pathy for the unfortunate; and impressed them 
with certain grave questions which they pondered 
over, and never forgot. Mammy Dozier’s triumph 
may be imagined when it became known that the 
draught horses of the menagerie were stabled at 
“ The Farmer’s Rest,” in charge of their own host- 
lers, two of whom it was reported were intoxicated the 
night of the fire, and were smoking their pipes in 
the stable, the last that was seen of them. At least 
twenty times a day, and forever after, whenever the 
subject was referred to, she would straighten herself 
up, and looking over her spectacles, say: “Didn’t I 
tell you so. I knew God would punish such un- 
christian doings, I did.” And no one cared to con- 
tradict her, because they knew that it would be a 
waste of breath. 

Isabel had quite recovered from her little indispo- 
sition, and was with Gay, watching with great 
delight “The Hope” dancing over the ripples in 
the basin of the fountain. Several small spiders 
formed the crew, and were running busily up and 
down the rigging ; a wasp in armor of bronze and 
gold was impaled with a sharp needle on the poop- 


* This was in the day of Volunteer Fire Companies. 


120 


TOM-BOY. 


deck for the captain, and his wings in a ceaseless 
flutter looked like epaulets. Then they loaded 
“The Hope” with blossoms of golden-rod, and 
played that she was coming home from California 
freighted with treasure. All these fanciful ideas 
were Gay's, and Isabel enjoyed them greatly. But, 
alas, “The Hope” ventured too near the centre of 
the fountain, where the water fell in large quan- 
tities, and was instantly upset, her sails wetted 
through, her crew drowned, and her flag — a butter- 
fly's wing — torn and ruined. Only the captain was 
alive — for hornets are hard to kill — and on being 
released flew at Isabel, and tried his best to sting 
her, but she threw her scarf over her head and ran 
for life, leaving Gay to give battle to the piratical 
wasp, who soon vanquished and put him to death. 

“How Isabel,” said Gay, “come along, the 
pirate captain is slain, and I've hung our ship on a 
Brobdignag tree to dry. You know we are in the 
land of the giants, where Gulliver was wrecked, and 
where the trees grow as high as the sky. What 
shall we do next ?” 

“ Don't know,” answered Isabel, comiiig back, 
diverted as she always was with Gay’s curious 
fancies. 

“Well, I tell you what I'm going to do, I'm 
going to see that dear little white pig/' said Gay. 

“ I don't care about seeing the pig. I'll bring 
out my worsted work, and sit here under the trees 
until you come back.” 

“Pshaw! that's as stupid as the dinner papa’s 
going to have to-day, with judges and generals and 
senators at it. We are all to have our dinner at 2 


THE LITTLE PIGGIE — THE FIRST SIN. 121 

o’clock, you know, to ourselves ; and they are to 
have their grand eat at five. I could dance, I’m so 
glad that I’m not to be dressed up, but left to play 
just as much as ever I please.” 

“ You go on then; I’m going in to get my worsted 
and things, and will wait here for you,” said Isabel, 
who suited her action to her words. 

But as fate would have it, something attracted 
Gay’s attention, and when Isabel came back, she 
was still there. Then she loitered over the beautiful 
French workbox and its contents which were always a 
source of endless delight to her, and forgot all about 
the pig until after dinner, just about the time her 
father’s guests began to assemble. Then she re- 
membered, and without saying a word to anybody, 
stole off to carry out her nice little plan. When 
she got to the place she saw, to her great joy that 
the loose plank was nearly off, it was just kept in 
place by a single nail. She peeped through, and 
there was the great old sow, with her interesting 
piggies, engaged as usual, except the snow-white 
one — Gay’s pet — which was stretched out on its 
mother’s side, fast asleep, as she lay at her ease on 
the floor of the pen. How innocent the little dar- 
ling looked, lying there with closed eyes, a smile 
upon her countenance, and her pink skin just show- 
ing under her snow-white coat. Was there ever so 
lovely a pig born ? It was pig-poetry, just to look 
at the wee plump thing. Then, too, the fat, cross 
old mother was sound asleep; not all the noisy, 
squealing and squeaking, and nuzzling and tugging, 
and general higgle-de-piggety doings of her young 
ones appeared to disturb her repose. What a 


122 


TOM-BOY . 


chance ! It was the work of a moment for Gay to 
wrench the plank off, slip through the fence, 
snatch up the white pig and gather her apron 
around it, then rush back, intending to keep it only 
a little while, then put it through the opening, into 
its own house, but the “ plans of men and mice oft 
gang aglee,” and so Gay found it, when on hearing 
the terrified squeals of the captured young one, the 
sow started up, and with her whole noisy litter at her 
heels, gave chase to Gay, who ran for life, never 
thinking, in her flight, to drop the pig, but held it 
tight in her apron, where it kept up a prolonged 
squeal, loud and shrill enough to have split the 
linen all to shreds. Gay never stopped, the wrath- 
ful sow was gaining on her, she felt her hot breath 
on her heels, and expected every instant to have 
one of her feet seized in those sharp fangs, and 
bitten off; she ran like the wind, and without see- 
ing where she was going, rushed breathlessly 
through one of the dining-room windows — two of 
which, on the garden side, opened to the ground — 
the sow and pigs following, to the consternation 
and surprise of the dinner company, who had just 
been helped to soup ; and threw herself and the 
squealing pig into her father’s arms. Every one 
started up from the table — the pigs scattered them- 
selves among the feet of the company, almost up- 
setting them — but finally the servants captured the 
sow and dragged her off by her great ears, while she 
uttered lamentations of grief and fury that set every 
one’s teeth on edge. It lasted only a few moments; 
the diabolic uproar. Mr. Machen came at once and 
took the innocent cause of it all from Gay, and tell- 


THE LITTLE WHITE PIGGIE—THE FIRST SIN. 123 

ing her to go immediately to her room and remain 
there, he directed one of the servants to take the 
pig away. The man had not far to go, for the 
angry gardener was driving the intruders before 
him, with threats and blows towards the lower part 
of the grounds, where the pen was, and he tossed 
the frightened little animal after them and it 
scampered after its brothers and sisters, and irate 
mother, as fast as its short legs could carry it. Now 
tli at her pet piggy was restored to her motherly 
care, the sow behaved like a well-conducted animal, 
and gave no further trouble, but led her family 
through the broken fence, aided by several kicks 
from the gardener, who lost no time in nailing the 
plank again in its place. 

Mr. Machen was naturally very much mortified at 
so untoward an interruption to his dinner party ; 
but his guest, after the first surprise, saw and 
laughed heartily at the ludicrous side of the affair, 
and like the sensible man that he was, he made the 
best of the occurrence and laughed with them, but 
he determined that Gay should remember her 
thoughtless conduct. Gay was not allowed to leave 
her room, and to crown her distress, Charlie stole 
up to tell her that Nebby, the gosling, was missing ; 
the last that was seen of him, he was following 
Gave through the grounds. 

“ Oh, do go and look for him, Charlie.” 

“I have searched everywhere for him, so have 
Tom and Dave. He must have followed Dave into 
the street. But we’ll keep on looking,” answered 
Charlie, kindly. 

“ Oh, my, what shall I do ? ” cried Gay, her eyes 


124 


TOM-BOY . 


full of tears ; “ What business had Dave with my 
gosling ? Oh, my ! just as he was beginning to have 
beautiful, white feathers on him. Do, Charlie, ask 
mamma, please to come here.” 

“I can’t do that. Gay ; mother is displeased with 
you about that row you made with the pigs,” 
answered Charlie, getting red in the face, trying to 
keep from laughing at the remembrance of it, “and 
you won’t see her to-night. ” 

“ I couldn’t help it, indeed I couldn’t, Charlie ; I 
just took up the little white pig, to pet it a little, 
when that horrid old griffin made after me, and 
frightened me, so that I didn’t know where I was 
going until I was right among them all. I’m very 
sorry it happened so, but wasn’t it funny ? Oh, 
Charlie, if you had just been there to see them 
jumping about to get out of the way of the pigs.” 

“Your fun has got you in a precious scrape this 
time, old girl,” said Charlie Machen, laughing, in 
spite of all his efforts to look grave. “ But I must 
go now.” 

“Do look for Neb, Charlie. I don’t mind any- 
thing like losing poor Neb, and I shall cry my eyes 
out if he’s gone for good.” 

“ Pshaw ! but I’ll hunt for him,” answered 
Charlie, going out and closing the door after him. 

Gay w r as very much grieved about not seeing her 
mother, who was too much mortified and grieved at 
her incorrigible thoughtlessness to come to her. 
She also wanted her to understand that her head- 
over-heels doings were to be no longer tolerated, and 
she must — in her reckless delight for anything that 
was funny, show some consideration for others. As 


THE LITTLE WHITE PIGGIE—THE FIRST SIN. 125 

twilight stole into the windows. Gay began to feel 
quite dejected ; she heard the carriage of her 
father’s guests rolling away from the door, and she 
knew that the lamps were being lighted in the 
house, and Isabel and her brothers would be at the 
tea-table, as usual, with her father and mother, and 
talk and laugh together just as if she wasn’t up 
there in the dark without a soul to speak to, 
punished — for what ? She couldn’t see the justice 
of it, and her spirit rose against it ; and the fact is, 
that the argument against her in this case, was 
right only so far as it went, and did not apply to the 
occasion more than the reproofs of Job’s friends did 
to him ; as Mr. Machen discovered when he went 
up after tea, with a stern purpose, to talk severely 
to poor Tom-boy, to show her how much displeased 
he was. But when she told him in the usual frank 
and honest way how it all happened, the whole 
affair seemed to hinge on the fact that the garden 
fence had been neglected just in the very spot, 
where of all others, it was needed to be kept in repair. 
He scolded Gay for venturing into the hog-pen ; 
told her she deserved the fright she got, and that 
henceforth to avoid the chance of being mortified 
by her reckless pranks, whenever there was company 
in the house, she should remain in her room, as 
there was no telling what mischief she might get 
into. Gay had never seen her father so angry 
before, and besides being a little frightened at it, 
she felt more and more stung by the severity of her 
punishment, in proportion to her fault. As she 
reasoned, “ She had only meant to look at the pig, 
and hold it a little while, then put it right back ; 


126 


TOM-BOY. 


and never thought of going near the house with it 
until the sow had chased her there, when she, 
scared half out of her senses, never thought of drop- 
ping the pig, but bolted into the dining-room, and 
ran to her father for protection and safety. What 
else was she to do under the circumstances ?” 

“ Who loosened that plank ? ” asked Mr. Machen, 
who was walking up and down the room, as he 
suddenly stopped before her. 

Alas ! what possessed poor Tom-boy, who had 
never told a lie in all her life.; who was so truthful 
that everybody who knew her, always placed faith 
in what she said ? What sudden confusion, or 
dread, or secret influence now came over her, that 
she should lose courage and accuse Dave of having 
broken down the plank ? But she did ; she held 
down her head and replied : 

“Dave pulled it down.” 

“Very well, now go to your bed ; your mother 
will not be up to-night,” said Mr. Machen, who 
went out without kissing her, but speaking in a 
cold, hard voice, that she had never heard before ; 
and it sounded so very strange and unkind,, that she 
felt numbed after he left her. Then the story she 
had told on Dave ! Oh, how miserable she was ! 
It was the first sin of her life, and it stung her 
with a hurt such as she had never dreamed of. It hurt 
her pride, for she had meanly thrown the blame of 
her own fault upon another, who was innocent. It 
hurt her affection, for she dearly loved Dave ; and 
there was a deeper pain than all, in the sense of 
wrong that roused her conscience up from its sleep 
of innocence. It was a great sin ; truly a two-fold 


THE LITTLE WHITE PIGGIE — THE FIRST SIN. 127 

sin, for she had not only told a lie but had borne 
false witness against her brother. But Gay did not 
know it in this light, then, for she had not — as we 
have seen— been trained religiously. She only felt 
that she had done a dishonorable, unkind and 
wicked thing, which hurt her, and also made her 
.think meanly of herself. And how much more 
keenly would she have suffered, if she had known 
that her father, believing implicitly what she had 
told him, had gone down and called Dave into the 
library, where, after giving him a stern lecture, he 
then thrashed him, for Dave had denied the charge, 
and Mr. Machen thought he had added the mean- 
ness of a lie to his first fault. 

But Dave was a manly little fellow ; he couldn't 
tell who had been bringing stories of him to his 
father ; he only knew that he had not been any- 
where near that fence for two or three weeks ; he 
was sorry that his father was displeased with him, 
but he was not going to make himself miserable 
about what he didn't do, and couldn't help ; and 
although he did not at all relish being whipped, he 
was just as ready the next day to play “ prisoners 
base" and foot-ball on the common, as he had 
ever been in his life. A clear conscience, exercise 
in the open air, the bright sunshine and a whole- 
some appetite are great restorers, and the lad for- 
got his troubles forthwith, without a sting of malice 
being left to remind him there was somebody for 
him to be mad with, whenever he should find out 
who brought them upon them. 

“ Never mind, old fellow," had been Charlie's 
characteristic way of comforting him, when they 


128 


TOM-BOY. 


were talking it over that night in their room, while 
lie smoothed back Dave’s tawny hair from his 
flushed forehead; “Nevermind, if you didn’t de- 
serve it this time, maybe you will another when you 
miss it, then you see things will be balanced.” 

Dave could not understand this kind of logic ; he 
was very literal and very straightforward naturally, 
and saw no sense in consolation like that, so he 
began to ask Tom something about the new bat that 
the carpenter down the street had promised to 
make him, and heard, to his delight, that it was 
finished and ready for him whenever he wanted it. 

“ I shall want it to-morrow, and I’ll tell you what 
I’ll do, Tom, with my old one ; it’s good, you know, 
only I’ve outgrown it, and I’ll give it to that poor 
little Gilbert Davis, who is too poor to buy one for 
himself,” said Dave, raising himself up in bed on 
his elbow, the very thought of a kind, generous 
action brightening his eyes. 

“ That’s a brave fellow. I guess Gil will stand 
on his head, he’ll be so glad to get a nice bat.” 

“ Be quiet in there, boys,” said their father out- 
side the door, “ It is late, and your mother has a 
headache.” 

“ Yes, sir,” was the quiet response ; then the 
light was put out, and silence, and soon sleep fell 
upon the three lads. 

But poor Tom-boy,- there she was, all alone, in dis- 
grace, with no one to comfort her ; she thought she 
could never, never face her mother and father and 
brothers, and Isabel again. She got so miserable 
that she did not know what to do. First, she made 
up her mind to acknowledge her fault to her father 


THE LITTLE WHITE PIGGIE—THE FIRST SIX. 120 


as soon as ever she heard him up, the next morning ; 
but she trembled at the very thought, and wished she 
could only steal off somewhere among strangers. 
Her life had been so happy until now ; nothing had 
ever happened to cast the least shadow over her 
heart ; there had been only affection and gladness, 
without anything to make her afraid, ever since she 
could remember, but now ! — it would have been bad 
enough, had the trouble she was in been brought 
upon her by some one else — alas ! it was as if a ser- 
pent had coiled itself in her heart and stung her. 
She wondered if she were not somebody else, and 
shrunk up into the smallest possible compass in her 
bed, lest she should see some dreadful shape beside 
her or feel the touch of a cold, heavy hand upon 
her. And so she lay weeping and sobbing in the 
darkness, when she heard some one say : 

“Where are you, dear Gay ?” 

It was Isabel, whose tender heart pained for her 
wild little companion, whom she had grown to love, 
had stolen out of bed as soon as everything got 
quiet, and came in to kiss her good-night, by way of 
showing her sympathy. 

“Never mind, poor little darling,” she whispered, 
bending over Gay and throwing her arm around 
her ; “ You couldn’t help it, and it was a shame to 
hurt your feelings about it.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” snapped Gay, “Let me be, I’m 
sleepy.” 

“Well, then, good-night ; won’t you let me kiss 
you good-night. Gay ?” 

“ No, Isabel, I don’t want to be kissed. Go to 
bed, they’ll scold you for coming here.” 


130 


TOM-BOY. 


“ I wouldn’t mind being scolded for coming, Gay, 
if I could only do or say something to comfort you.” 

“ You can’t — I don’t want to be comforted — I 
want you to go away, and let me be.” There was a 
sob between every sentence. 

“Very well, darling. I’ll go, and I’ll ask our 
blessed Mother to help you,” said Isabel, kissing 
Gay’s cheek and leaving her. 

“ I wonder what she means by her blessed mother,” 
thought Gay, “I wonder if she thinks her dead 
mother can hear her ? I’ll ask her some time. Oh, 
me ! I wonder if my good mother is thinking of her 
poor, desolate child ? I feel just as if I were in the 
middle of a great hollow world, and that everybody 
shunned me be cause Iliad the mark of a liar upon me. 

“ Oh, Dave ! I’d die if I could, to take it back.” 

Then she cried herself to sleep. 


CHAPTER IX. 


TOM-BOY IH TROUBLE. 

The boys almost split their sides with suppressed 
laughter, after they went up to bed that night, over 
the irruption of the pigs at the dinner party ; and 
had Tennyson's famous lyric of “ Come into the 
garden, Maud" been written, they would undoubt- 
edly have named that belligerent old sow Maud. 
They were not on hand to see the fun themselves, 
but Jake, the dining-room servant, had told them 
all about the affair, and if you know anything of 
the peculiarities of Jake's race, you will understand 
that it lost nothing of its funny aspect by his tell- 
ing, accompanied as the recital was, by the most 
grotesque mimicry. Then they laughed at Dave, 
whose wonderment overtopped the hurt of the sud- 
den trouncing he had got, while the experience was 
so novel, and he was so entirely ignorant of what 
had brought it upon him, that now when they 
were by themselves, he could talk of nothing 
else. 

“I didn't do a thing; I declare I didn't, 
Charley," he said for about the hundredth time. 

“ Well, you will some day, I tell you old fellow, 
and you only got now what you'll deserve then. 
Take that plaster to heart now, and don't worry 
over it any more, old fellojv," answered Charley, 
patting Dave's tawny head. 


132 


TOM-BOY. 


“ That’s what you call logic, I suppose,” growled 
Dave, “ but I know I didn’t do a thing.” 

“ Who says you did ? If you had gone and done 
something, there wouldn’t be the least bit of fun in 
it,” said Tom, “ So 

What’s the use of sighing 
When time is on the wing ?” 

“But I don’t like father to think I’d gone and 
done something bad enough to be whipped for,” 
said Dave, his honest, homely face reddening. 

“Look here, Dave, don’t make an ass of yourself 
now ; it’s no use I tell you ! Father will find out 
his mistake some day, as sure as you’re born ; then 
there’ll be a vindication of your wrongs, exactly 
like a story-book,” said Charley, flourishing his 
hand just as he did at school when declaiming 

“My name is Norval, on the Grampian hills,” etc. 

Dave smiled rather a grim sort of smile and 
shook his head with one of those expressive shakes, 
that with boys mean so many different things; he 
then said: 

“ I’m sorry for Gray, anyhow; there was no use 
punishing her, she couldn’t help the pigs getting in.” 

Ah! if Gay could only have heard Dave say that, 
it would have broken her heart. 

“I’m sorry for Gay, too; she’s had one scare if 
she never gets another; but I don’t see either 
where was the use of punishing her because some- 
body was careless enough to leave the fence open,” 
said Tom. 


TOM-BOY IN TROUBLE. 


133 


“ Jupiter! what a run she had when the sow was 
after her, horse, foot and dragoons. I wonder she 
didn’t throw the pig at her head, but she was in a 
panic, I expect,” observed Charley, “ and I hope it 
will learn her to let things alone.” 

“I hope it won’t then; we’d be a wishy-washy set 
if we hadn’t Tom-boy to keep up our spirits; she’s 
jolly. I wouldn’t like her to be a milk-sop like 
Isabel,” said Tom. 

“You let Isabel alone,” flared up Charley. 

“ I only said she was a milk-sop, and she is. I 
shouldn’t be surprised any day to see her melting 
away like a snow-image, or a snail, when you put 
salt on his back,” answered Tom, stoutly; “ she’s 
just good enough and all that, but I like girls with 
grit in ’em, like Gay.” 

“Dave, did you hear anything about Neb to- 
night; I forgot to ask if he was found,” said Char- 
ley, feeling in his heart that he would like to punch 
Tom’s head, but swallowing his anger, which had 
risen like a lump in his throat. 

“I asked Jake, and he said we might count on 
never seeing the gosling again: he says, being a 
tame thing, and not knowing how to defend itself, 
he expects the dogs have tore it to pieces.” 

“Torn, my son!” said Charley, laughing. 

“Jake said tore,” answered Dave, “and I only 
told you what he said.” 

“Jake is a foreigner from the land of the Mumbo 
Jumbo, my son; and will never master the English 
grammar,” replied Charley with his intolerable air 
of affected older-brother superiority, which he put 
on occasionally to tease the two younger boys. 


134 


TOM-BOY. 


“ Pro-di-gious! ” exclaimed Tom, who had been 
reading Guy Man Tiering, and thought Dominie 
Sampson the most irresistible character that was 
ever heard of; “ you’ll be a College Professor one of 
those days, if you don’t mind.” 

“No, I won’t either; I know what I’m going to 
be,” answered Charley, good humoredly, “But, say 
Tom, did you hear anything about Neb?” 

“Yes I did! I declare I forgot all about it. Joe 
Wright told me just before we came in that he saw 
some boys up by the brick-yard chasing a gosling^ 
.but he didn’t know who they were.” 

“ I bet it was Neb. So much, my son, for going 
off into unknown parts without leave,” said Charley, 
patting Dave’s shoulder, “I suppose Neb had heard 
the birds chattering about a great lake out there 
— the brick pond you know — and wanted to take an 
afternoon swim. But I hope he’ll come back. Gay’s 
so fond of him.” 

“I mean to go out before breakfast and hunt for 
him,” said Dave. 

“ I’ll go with you, Dave,” added Tom, “ I’d be so 
sorry if Gay lost old Nebby, she’s so fond of him.” 

And so they chatted together until they fell 
asleep. Dave was the first one to give in, and 
Charley leaned over and kissed him, saying: “Poor 
little man.” 

“What could have got into father, Charlie? 
Dog it all, I never heard such a thing as to go 
and trounce a fellow and not let him know for 
what.” 

“I don’t know, Tom, father’s not given to that 
sort of thing ; and lie’s not apt to do a thing with- 


TOM-BOY IN TROUBLE. 135 

out some good reason for it, at least he thinks he 
has good reason always/’ 

“ It must be the ‘ think’ this time, for that poor 
little fellow there didn’t deserve what he got. I’m 
sure ; and I think father did a cruel, unjust thing,” 
said Tom. 

“Shut up; enough said,” replied Charley, and 
nothing more was said on the subject, whatever each 
of them may have thought. 

Gay was awakened the next morning by the 
golden light of the newly risen sun, which filled her 
room with a rosy glow ; while one bright ray that 
stole through a chink in the blind, shone right 
athwart her face. She opened her eyes on the 
brightness as she always did, with a glad, joyous 
feeliug ; then suddenly she remembered the events 
of the day before, and her fault came into her 
mind like a great blot clouding over the morning 
splendors, a deep blush crimsoned her face, and she 
drew the counterpane up over it, ashamed for even 
the bright loving sun to look upon it. She dressed 
herself that morning as well' as she knew how, in 
the clean things placed in a chair near her bed the 
night before, for she did not wish Winny to stay a 
moment to talk, and she knew there would be no 
excuse for her to remain, if she found her dressed. 
Presently Winny came in and seeing Gay up and 
dressed, exclaimed : 

“I ’spect the world’s cornin’ to a end. Look 
yere honey, who dressed you ?” 

“I dressed myself,” replied Gay, without turning 
her head. 

“That there race you had wi’ the pigs must a’ 


136 


TOM-BOY. 


brightened you up, chile ; let me see if you's all 
right 'fore you go down stairs. 

“Yes, I'm all right, and it's none of your business 
about the pigs," said Gay, angrily. 

“Look yere chile, don't fool 'long er me; I 
didn't do nothin’ to you, so your a're is lost, and I 
ain't gwine to have Mieses a scoldin' o' me ' cause 
you choose to come down half dressed ; not that she 
ever do scold, but I don't like Misses to be 
worretted, for just as sure as she do, she gets down 
wid one of dem ar tarin' headaches ; so tligr now." 

Gay stood up for inspection without speaking, 
and Winny unhooked and then hooked again ; 
unbuttoned and buttoned over; tied and untied 
every garment she had on, for none of them were 
fastened right ; then she combed and brushed Gay's 
thick hair, and tied a band of black velvet around 
her head — put a clean plaited ruffle around her 
neck — looked at her finger nails and teeth, and see- 
ing they had been forgotten, got the tooth-brush 
and nail-brush out, and told her to make haste and 
get through cleaning them, for “ breakfast was 
' most ready." 

“Am I to come down to breakfast this morn- 
ing ? " she asked, speaking gently for the first time. 

“ In coorse you is, chile ; why shouldn't you ? I 
don't see why you is gwine to be punished case dem 
ar tarnal pigs skeert you harf to death. Your ma 
sent me to tell you to come down. What's the mat- 
ter, is you sick ? " 

“ No ! " answered Gay, curtly. 

“I s'pose you're frettin' your gizzard about dat 
goslin,' but ' tain’t no use, chile ; he'd growned to a 


TOM-BOY IN TROUBLE. 


137 


goose afore long, and been as much lost to you as 
he be now ? ” said Winny. 

“Is he lost ? ” asked Gay, looking up while her 
lips quivered. 

“ I dunno for sartin, honey ; Dave he’s been out 
since six o’clock, and Tom too lookin’ every whar 
for him, but dey came in just now and didn’t find 
hair nor hide of him. Dar’s the first bell — ” 

And Winny darted out of the room to go and 
help Isabel to dress. 

Poor Gay ; if a knife had cut into her flesh, it 
wouldn’t have hurt as much as when she heard that 
Davy had got out of bed early, to go and look for 
the gosling ; what should she do — how could she go 
on so, knowing in her heart that she had told a lie 
on Dave — deceived her father, and got her poor 
little brother, who was perfectly innocent of the 
fault she had herself committed — a whipping ? 

“ Oh, my,” she sobbed, “what shall I do ? If I 
tell, they’ll all hate me, and never speak to me 
again ; and if I keep it to myself I shall die.” 

She bathed her eyes in cold water, and went 
down stairs to breakfast when the second bell rung. 
Her mother kissed her as usual ; her father gravely 
said “ good morning,” but did not offer to kiss 
her. — Isabel pressed her hand as they passed each 
other to take their respective places at the table ; 
the boys nodded with a merry twinkle in their eyes, 
and for the first time got no response from Tom-boy, 
who spoke only when she was spoken to. It was a 
new mood for her who had been the life of the 
house ; always so brimming over with fun and 
merriment, that no one could resist her, try as they 


138 


TOM-BOY. 


might ; she was not like the same girl, and the 
mother feared she was sulking, and the boys also 
thought so, except Dave, who “ knew,” he said, 
“ that she was grieving about Neb,” but no one 
took any notice. 

“ Will you come out, Gay ; it is so lovely in the 
garden ? ” asked Isabel, slipping her arm around 
Gay's waist. 

“ No, I'm going to practice.” 

“Are you not well, my dear?” asked Mrs. 
Machen. 

“Yes, ma'am, I am very well.” 

“ I hope it is not anger that makes you so very 
quiet this morning ? ” said her mother in a low 
tone. 

“ No, ma'am, I am not angry,” she replied, look- 
ing down to hide the tears that rose to her eyes. 

“Well, go and practice, and by the time you 
finish we will be ready to take a drive before the 
heat of the day ; Isabel, you and I,” said Mrs. 
Machen, cheerfully. 

“ Yes, mamma,” answered Gay. Then she turned 
away and left the room. 

“I must let this mood, whatever it may be, 
work itself out ; she has been rebuked for her 
pranks, and punished by being sent to her room 
before, but I have never seen her like this ; perhaps 
the fright she got yesterday has unnerved her. 
Heavens, I'd rather see her a Tom-boy all her life, 
than have her like this,” thought the good mother. 

Mrs. Machen busied herself as usual, about her 
domestic duties, but she was sorely troubled in 
mind, hoping, however that matters would clear up 


TOM-BOY IN TROUBLE. 


139 


daring their drive through the woods and along the 
shore, where the river, pent up between high banks, 
descended over great rocks with a rush and roar, 
that sounded like distant thunder, filling the air 
with glittering spray. She knew how much Gay 
loved the dusky woods anti shining river, with its 
beautiful tumult, and felt sure that the girl would 
recover her elasticity and cheerfulness when she got 
there. 

But she was very quiet during the drive, and 
when they came to the woods, they got out of the 
carriage to walk about under the old trees, so old 
that their great spreading roots projected them- 
selves in all sorts of grotesque shapes above ground, 
making rustic seats which were covered with moss, 
and very comfortable to sit on. Gay showed an 
inclination to be alone, so no one hindered her, and 
she wandered off, gathering as she went, a handful 
of the trailing yellow jessamine and scarlet honey- 
suckle that hung in rich festoons from the trees 
almost to the ground. She peered about among 
the mosses for the beautiful green beetles she was 
so fond of collecting, and found some fine speci- 
mens of coral-tipped moss, and peeping into a 
hollow tree, she saw a blue-bird's nest, with the 
delicately tinted little eggs like big pearls in it ; 
but she felt no thrill of delight as she would have 
done a week ago, and attracted by some wild flowers, 
she stooped to examine them, and laid her cheek on 
the cool, thick moss at the foot of a tree where they 
grew, and watched the sun glittering through the 
trees, and the dancing, golden shadows on the grass, 
until she almost forgot her troubles in a dream of 


140 


TOM-BOY. 


fairy-land ; but she was very quiet, and addressed no 
remarks to her mother or Isabel, who had kept 
within speaking distance of her all the time ; and 
Mrs. Machen thought they had better continue their 
drive to the river. Never was there anything more 
beautiful than the foaming waters lit up by the 
sunshine in millions of sparkles, spangling the air 
with spray, that, tossed upwards, caught here and 
there prismatic shadows, which quivered and faded 
and came again perpetually ; while the high wooded 
hills on each side, covered with a growth of flower- 
ing laurel, white blooming acacia, trees filled with 
dogwood roses, cedars, oaks, beeches and feathery 
pines, all growing together in wild luxuriance, 
enhanced the picturesque charm of the scenery. 
Gay's eyes sparkled and her cheeks flushed as she 
sat, drinking in as it were, all this loveliness — 
breathing in the sweet pure air, that was as ex- 
hilarating as new wine, and watching the river, 
gleaming and tumbling over the rocks ; but her 
joy was transient ; her sin arose between her and 
the beautiful picture ; they were unchanged in all 
their shifting, indescribable brightness, but her 
nature failed to spring out in the old wild ecstatic 
delight that had always animated her before, when- 
ever she came to this place, and she was mute, 
sorrowful, and tired, speaking only when she was 
spoken to. 

“The child has a low fever creeping on her I 
fear. I never saw her so dull before," thought Mrs. 
Machen ; but she spoke cheerfully when she said : 
“ Come girls, it is time for us to leave this fairy- 
land. I should be glad to stay longer, but I have 


TOM-BOY IN TROUBLE . 


141 


to go down town when we get back. Gay, dear, I 
want you and Isabel to arrange all these lovely wild 
flowers for me in the drawing-room vases.” 

“Yes, mamma!” was all she said, and Mrs. 
Machen and Isabel talked together the rest of the 
way home. 

Gay Machen's conscience had heretofore lain dor- 
mant, for her life up to the present time had been 
innocent of any real guile, and now aroused and 
wounded by her first sin, it would have given her 
trouble enough of itself, but her sensitive nature 
and vivid imagination made matters worse, for they 
kept her arrayed as before some dread tribunal, 
hearing the .accusation written against her, over 
and over, and over again. Her pride was hurt — she 
was humiliated beyond description — not only by the 
wickedness of her sin, but also the meanness and 
dishonor of it. She had told a lie ; borne false-wit- 
ness against her brother ; deceived her father, who 
had never questioned her truthfulness, which led to 
his inflicting unjust punishment on the brother, 
who of all the boys, she probably loved the best. 
And so she turned it over and over in her mind, but 
could make nothing more of it than that the facts 
and their consequences were inexorable ; and hav- 
ing no remedy, for she was not a Catholic, you 
know, she wished that she could die. 

“I have found him, Gay, Fve found old Neb. He 
had straggled away down town, and he can't walk.” 

“ Where is he, Davy?” she interrogated, flushing 
crimson, and looking away to avoid Davy's beaming 
eyes. 

“He's in the garden under the cherry-tree. I 


142 


TOM-BOY. 


made him a nice soft grass bed there, and put him 
in it, for he can’t stand up, or swim, and he won’t 
eat, not even a fly, for I caught one for him,” said 
Dave, gasping with the fullness of his news. 

“ I wonder what’s the matter with the poor little 
thing ? ” said Mrs. Machen. 

“ I don’t know, mamma, but his feet are all stuck 
up with tar, and an old black fellow told me he saw 
some boys after him with a dog, then they caught 
him and pitched him in a tar barrel.” 

“Oh, my ! may I go right to him and see what’s 
the matter, mamma ? ” asked Gay. 

“Certainly, my dear. I hope you’ll find him 
better; I expect he’s only tired out with his wander- 
ing ; ” said Mrs. Machen kindly. 

Gay ran in, through the house, and into the 
garden followed by Dave — how she wished he hadn’t 
come — who went on telling her what a time he had 
had hunting for the gosling, until they stopped at 
the cherry-tree, where Neb was. lying, his soft 
yellow plumage ruffled and soiled, his head weakly 
drooping, and his eyes closed, while his bill opened 
now and then with a feeble gasp. 

“ Poor little Nebby, where have you been, and 
what have they been doing to you ?” said Gay, 
crooning over her pet, as she lifted him, grass nest 
and all, and laid him in her lap. The gosling 
opened its eyes as if it recognized her voice, uttered 
a faint cheep, stretched out its feet, and with a 
little flutter of its wings, where the white feathers 
were just beginning to show themselves, its head 
drooped, and when Gay with a sudden tremor, lifted 
it up, she found that it was dead. 


TOM-BOY IN TROUBLE. 


143 


“What’s the matter with him. Gay, is he dead?” 
asked Dave. 

“Yes, Dave,” answered Gay, gently, as she sat 
smoothing her dead pet with her hand. 

“Let’s make a big funeral for him, won’t you? 
I’ve got a box that’ll just do, and you and Isabel 
can be chief mourners — I’ll be the undertaker, and 
Charley and Tom and Theresa can be the com- 
pany — I’ll preach too, if you want me to!” said 
Davy. 

“I’d rather not play funeral over him; I’m going 
to bury him there under the lilacs,” she answered in 
a low voice. 

“I wouldn’t be cut up about a gosling if I were 
you. I’ll go and get the trowel and dig a hole right 
off for you ! ” said Dave. 

“If you please, Davy, you are very kind to me,” 
answered Gay, her eyes filling with tears, not with 
grief for the dead gosling, although she was very 
sorry that he h^d been so cruelly tormented and 
died; but at the thought of what she had brought 
on the kind little fellow who was so zealous to serve 
her, and she longed to throw her arms around his 
neck, tell him all and ask his forgiveness; but her 
courage failed her, she could not bear the idea of 
them all despising her, as she knew they would, if 
they ever found out how mean she had been. 

The gosling had a very unostentatious burial, 
every one was sorry for its untimely taking off, and 
for Gay; and Charley to comfort her, told her that 
he knew an old sailor, a regular old salt, he said, 
who had promised him a monkey, and he’d give it 
to her as soon as ever he got it. 


144 


TOM-BOY. 


“1 always wanted a monkey!” said Gay, with 
something of the old ring in her voice. 

After a few days Gay was more like her old self; 
but there was something wanting still that they all 
missed, but could not tell what it was, and it was 
noticed that she devoted herself especially to Dave 
while she was impatient and fretful at times with 
everybody else; she was gentle and forbearing to a 
wonderful degree with him, humoring all • his 
notions — doing whatever he wished — playing ball 
with him and any other games that he wished, no 
matter how she might be engaged herself, useful or 
otherwise. Mrs. Machen observed this at first casu- 
ally, then she noticed it more particularly until a 
sudden light dawned upon her mind, but she kept 
her own counsel. 

“ I never did see sich a changed chile in all my 
life. Miss Dozier,” said Winny one night, while 
holding a confidential chat with Mammy Dozier in 
the nursery; “ she ain’t up to her ole pranks like she 
used to was; an’ if you b’lieve my racket, she don’t 
tear her clothes all to pieces now; an’ I cotch her 
cryin’ t’other day in her room, all alone by herself.” 

“You didn’t expect a lady’s child to go on bein’ 
nothin’ but a Tom-boy all her days did you? I 
knowed that bein’ with Isabel would help to get her 
out of her higgle-di-piggetty ways, and she’s gettin’ 
right down purty now that she ain’t so fat and 
keeps her clothes clean. I shouldn’t wonder if she’d 
grow up a beauty after all,” replied Mammy Dozier, 
taking off her spectacles to rub the glasses. 

“She’ll have to be borned over ag’in afore dat 
comes to pass,” said Winny, chuckling, “she’s as 


TOM-BOY IN TROUBLE. 


145 


ugly as mash-mud, but I likes her the best of all of 
'em, if she is ugly; she's my fav'rite. But dar's 
sumpin' or other on de chile's mind; maybe dem 
witches she tells sich rigamaroles about, has done 
sumpin' to her." 

“Hould your tongue with such nonsense. 
Witches in Ameriky? If you was ever to go to the 
ould country you might see the f good people,' but 
'taint civilized enough here for 'em yet. They like 
to stay amongst ruined castles; and near the ould 
cairns and the like of that; and I never heard of a 
castle in Ameriky! " 

“ I hope you never will, if castles bring witches. 
It makes my wool stan' on end to think of 'em." 

Sometimes Gay went out on the grounds with the 
boys to join in their sports, sometimes she seemed 
apparently interested in her old amusements, and 
her voice would be heard ringing out above the 
shouts and laughter of the rest, but between there 
came intervals of fretfulness and moodi.ness that 
made every one feel uncomfortable, always except- 
ing Dave, to whom she was unchangeably tender 
and kind. Mr. Machen thought once or twice that 
she was jealous of Isabel, but that was a mistake, 
she dearly loved Isabel; then he felt afraid that her 
disposition was undergoing a change for the worse 
— an idea that her unamiable spells seemed to give 
strength to. 


CHAPTER X. 


GAY FINDS A REMEDY. 

It was the eve of the Assumption and Isabel 
Forsyth was in her room getting ready to go to Con- 
fession when she heard a quick bounding step in the 
hall ; in another instant Gay made her appearance, 
who, when she saw her with her hat in her hand, 
woiijld not come in but stood leaning against the 
door-frame, dusty and towzled ; her dress tattered 
and torn. She had evidently been having an old 
fashioned “ high jinks," such as she had not 
indulged in for some time, but now that it was over, 
the sparkle 'and fire of it gone, there was a tired, 
dissatisfied look in her face that had lately become 
quite common to it, but to which the family were 
not yet accustomed. 

“ Come in Gay, you look so tired ; where have 
you been ? " said Isabel kindly. 

“Nowhere ; that is, only in the garden, and 
about." 

“ Have you been having a good time ; you look 
as if you had ? " Isabel remarked with a quiet little 
laugh, as her eyes rested a moment on Gay's tattered 
dress. 

“ Oh, yes indeed," she answered, laughing as she 
gave her dress a shake, “ I didn't know it was as 
bad as this. But, you know, I've been mole-hunt- 
ing two days, and had to scramble about a good deal." 


GAY FINDS A REMEDY 


147 


“Mole hunting ! What’s that ? ” 

“ Well it’s mole-hunting. Did you never see a 
mole ? ” 

“ No indeed ! What is it ? ” 

“ It is a little furry animal that burrows in the 
ground and keeps company with the gnomes and 
elves. I suppose he helps them to build their 
houses for he’s an awfully smart fellow ; but lie’s 
not nice to have under a flower bed I can tell you, 
for he raises it up like a pie crust.” 

“ For what ? ” 

“ Rummaging for worms and grubs I expect ; 
any how he does it, and my flowers are left without 
a bit of earth ’round the roots underneath. I 
couldn’t tell what did it at first. I saw it one day 
this week after a rain ; it had been very hot, and it 
rained all night you know, and when the sun came 
out next morning it was hotter than ever, and I 
saw my flower beds all puffed up and was sure the 
heat and rain together had made the ground swell. 
While I was thinking about it, and wondering what 
made my larkspurs, and asters, and pinks, look so 
drooping, Tom came for me to play hop-scotch with 
him, and I told him about it, and what I thought it 
was, but he burst out laughing at me, and told me to 
‘poke my finger in the earth.’ So I did and it was 
as hollow as a drum underneath.” 

“How odd ! What did you do then ?” inquired 
Isabel very much interested. 

“ Nothing but pack the dirt down ’round the 
roots of my flowers and water them, hut it was the 
very same thing next morning. I tell you I was 
mad ; then Davy said if I wanted, he’d come with me 


148 


TOM-BOY. 


to help me catch the mole.” There was always a 
tender inflection in Gay’s voice whenever she spoke 
of Dave, they had all noticed it, but thought it was 
because being the younger of her brothers he was her 
favorite ; a very natural supposition, for lately Dave 
was all the time hanging around Gay who appeared 
happiest when she was doing something to give him 
pleasure. “But,” continued Gay, “we didn’t in 
the least know how to set about it, until one of the 
darkey boys from ( Tanglebrake ’ heard us talking 
about it, and he told us we’d have to find the mole’s 
tracks before we could catch him, and we’d have to 
be very smart then, for he said a mole was the ‘cun- 
ningist varmint goin’ ?’ Then we asked mamma and 
she said he might go and show us what he meant by 
the mole tracks. He wasn’t long finding it, for 
wherever the mole had burrowed, the ground gave 
way under our feet when we trod upon it ; and it 
made a sort of ridge wherever he had worked his 
way along, with a tunnel or gallery underneath. 
The largest track led right straight through into my 
garden. But Lijah — that’s the boy — couldn’t tell 
when the mole would come ; all he could do was to 
find the tracks for us, then tell us that we must 
watch out for him. We did watch all day long but 
there wasn’t a sign of him, and I began to think it 
was worse than trying to catch birds by putting salt 
on their tails. Next morning my flowers were all 
hanging over, and the beds puffed up like pie-crust. 
— Then Dave and I put our heads together and held 
a council of war.” 

“ What did you do then ? ” 

“ I’m going to tell you for it was very smart of 


GAY FINDS A HEMEDY. 


149 


Dave to think of it, and very funny too ,” said Gay 
coming in and dropping on the rug, her face more 
animated than Isabel had seen it for weeks ; “ Davy 
got a shingle and cut about a hundred nice thin 
sticks about the length of a dinner knife and as 
thick as a knitting needle, and while he cut the 
sticks, I painted as many little flags on bits of paper 
and painted them the brightest colors I could find 
in my paint-box, then Davy made a splint in the 
end of every stick and slipped a flag in. When we 
finished them we marched into the garden and stuck 
the flag-staffs about a foot apart, all along the ridge 
that covered the mole’s gallery ; then set ourselves 
down to see what would happen.” 

“ What did happen ? Why didn’t you call me ?” 
said Isabel. 

“ I don’t know ; I would if I had thought you 
cared. Nothing happened for a good while but I 
wish you had been there at the last, it was real nice 
fun, for just when we began to feel awfully tired, 
Dave and I were thinking about giving it up ; our 
flags began to go down flip-flop, fliperty-floperty, 
and we knew the mole was coming for his dinner — ” 

“ Did you catch him ?” 

“ I rather guess we did, at least Davy did, he 
gave a jump and caught him under his foot just 
between the two last flags ; then he hauled him out 
by his hind legs — oh you never saw such lovely 
brown fur in your life and as clean as if he had lived 
all his life in a band-box. And he had no eyes, at 
least if he had we couldn’t find them.” 

“ What did you do with him ?” 

“ Dave killed him, then we skinned him, and see 


150 


TOM-BOY. 


here," said Gay fumbling in her pocket, “ I brought 
one of his hands for you to look at. ’’ 

“ Oh don’t, don’t Gay ; I don’t want to see it, 
indeed I don’t,’’ exclaimed Isabel, turning pale. 

“ What are you afraid of, Isabel ? I never saw 
such a foolish girl in my life. — I’d like to know 
what there is to be afraid of in this ; just look at 
these long, sharp, ivory fingers as white as snow and 
hard as steel, and the inside of the hand as pink as 
yours, with a nice little fur mitten around the wrist. 
You may call it a paw if it will make you feel any 
better." 

“ Poor little thing ; what a pity to kill such a 
nice pretty creature ! ’’ 

“ Pity ! ’’ exclaimed Gay indignantly, “ I’d kill 
one every day rather than have my flowers all 
scratched up ; the gardener says they root up the 
seeds just when they’re sprouting, by grubbing for 
worms and things, and destroy them, for they wont 
grow after that you know. Davy’s going to try to 
catch enough to make a mole skin cap." 

“ What are you going to do with that — that paw 
Gay ?" 

“ I’m going to hang this pretty little paw up with 
the rest of my trophies," answered Gay laughing, 
“ but where are you going Isabel ?’’ 

“ I am going to see Father Grayson presently ; to- 
morrow is a holy-day in our Church, it is the 
Assumption, and I wish to go to Holy Communion," 
she answered in a grave, gentle tone. 

“ Are you going to Communion to-day too ?" 

“No, I am going to-Confession to-day." 

“ What’s that ?" 


GAY FINDS A REMEDY. 


151 


“ One goes to Confession to tell his sins to the 
priest who by the power God has given him, for- 
gives them.” 

“ Fd like to know what sins you can ever have to 
tell, Isabel ?” 

“Oh, I have enough,” said Isabel with a little 
sigh. 

“Isabel!” said Gay after a minute’s silence, 
“did you ever tell a lie ?” 

“I believe not; I hope not. I hate a lie not 
only for the sin of it, but because it is mean, and 
cowardly,” answered Isabel earnestly. 

“But suppose you ever had told one that got 
somebody into trouble, would you let the priest 
know it ? ” asked Gay with a hot flush in her cheeks 
as she wondered if Isabel suspected her. 

“ I should have to if I wished my sins to be for- 
given. We go to Confession to confess our sins, 
nothing but that carries us there, for how are they 
to be forgiven unless we confess them and say we 
are sorry for them ? ” 

“ I shouldn’t like to go and kneel down and tell 
my sins to anybody ; if God knows them it is 
enough, I should say.” 

“ God knows all the time, but when we go and do 
wrong, we must turn and do something to get right 
again, that’s why we Catholics go to Confession.” 

“I wouldn’t go for all the world!” exclaimed 
Gay. Isabel made no reply but threw her black 
silk cloak around her, and having tied the strings of 
her hat under her chin, leaned over and kissed Gay 
on the forehead,- and went out of the room. — “No ! 
I wouldn’t go for all the world,” she repeated, when 


152 


TOM-BOY. 


left alone, but the defiant words were followed by a 
sudden longing to do the very thing she protested 
against. “Oh, if I only dared,” she thought, “go 
and tell Father Grayson — he is always so good to 
me — what I have done ! I wonder if he wouldn't say 
dreadful things to me, and drive me away if I told 
him how wicked I have been. He'd never speak to 
me or notice me again, and maybe he'd come and 
tell papa all about it. Oh, I don't know what to do 
with myself !” said the poor child, wringing her 
hands. “I wish I could die.” 

How long she would have sat there bemoaning 
herself, if Winny had not opportunely entered, I 
cannot tell, but the appearance of the old servant, 
who it must be admitted, was sometimes very 
aggravating to Gay, was like a bugle-call sounding 
a charge in battle, and now when she began to rate 
her little mistress in the old way about her soiled 
clothes, and disordered hair, Gay fired up and told 
her if she did not go off and let her alone, she'd 
throw the poker at her head ; proving, that though 
her conscience was sore, her spirit was not in the 
least broken. Then having both said their say, 
Winny flounced out in a fury, and Gay went to her 
own room to make herself nice. Before she was 
half through, she felt very sorry for having been so 
cross with her old “ mammy,” and went to look for 
her in the nursery where she sat sewing. 

“I'm sorry I spoke so rudely, mammy, just now; 
will you please come and fix me ? ” she said in a 
gentle voice. 

“Humph ! Yes, I'm coming,” answered Winny, 
pretending to be still angry, but hardly able to con- 


GAY FINDS A REMEDY. 


153 


tain herself, she was so delighted, for she dearly 
loved the wild odd child. 

An idea had taken possession of Gay and the 
more she thought of it, the more it seemed to 
comfort her ; it was to find some excuse to go and 
see Father Grayson for the purpose of telling him 
all that lay so heavy on her heart. But she would 
not go until she could — without seeming to mean 
anything by it — ask Isabel a few questions ; so, the 
very first time that they were alone together, she 
asked her if Father Grayson ever scolded people who 
came to tell him their sins ? 

“I think not!” answered Isabel, very much 
astonished by the abrupt question, “ he pities them, 
and is very kind, for he knows they must want to 
be good, to come and tell him how bad they have 
been. — Nobody likes to do that you know.” 

“ I suppose not ; but don't you think he tells of 
them sometimes ? ” asked Gay, musingly. 

“ Never ! I know that. Whatever you tell a 
priest in Confession is as safe as if you had told it 
to the dead ! You know some priests have suffered 
death before they would tell what persons had 
confessed to them.” 

“ Did you know any who did that ? ” inquired 
Gay, with deep interest. 

“I have read of them. St. John Nepomucene 
wouldn't tell the king what the queen had con- 
fessed, and the king told him he’d have him killed 
if he did not obey him, but he would not do it, so 
they took him at night and bound him hand and 
foot and threw him from a high bridge into the 
river, where he was drowned.” 


154 


TOM-BOY. 


“ That was a brave man ; do you think there are 
any more like him ? " 

“ Yes, they'd all do that rather than tell what 
people who come to them, confess," answered Isabel, 
in tones as positive as her belief. 

“ Do you think Father Grayson would ? " 

“I think Father Grayson would do just what St. 
John Nepomucene did, if he were pushed the same 
way. You go and try him ! " 

“ I'm not a Catholic ; he wouldn't mind telling 
on me if I was to do anything wrong, and go tell 
him," said Gay, while her face flushed with the 
consciousness of the sin she had committed, and 
which gave her no rest. 

“ You not being a Catholic would not make one 
bit of difference." 

“ How do you feel after you go to Confession; don't 
you feel very much ashamed and troubled ; Isabel ?" 

“ I feel that way before I go, but not afterwards, 
Gay ; for I know that my sins that were forgiven 
on earth are forgiven in Heaven, then I am ready 
to go to Holy Communion.” 

“ I never heard of such a strange religion," said 
Gay. But she had found out all that she wanted to 
know about Confession, and abruptly changed the 
conversation, by informing Isabel that she had 
finished hemming all that roll of ruffles, and her 
mamma intended to put it on the pillow-cases 
belonging to their rooms. “And I'm sure," she 
added, “ that I shall never sleep a wink with it 
under my head, for I hate ruffles. Then it was 
such a punishment for me to learn how to hem : I 
do detest hemming, don't you ? " 


GAY FINDS A REMEDY. 


155 


“ No ; I like all kinds of needle-work.” 

“ I can't bear it, and I don't see why somebody 
can't invent a machine that will sew ; * but I must 
go now, for I promised Davy to cover his ball for 
him.” 

The following afternoon Isabel missed Gay ; she 
was nowhere about the house, and she went into 
the garden, where she found her with a light, 
pretty willow-basket on her arm, gathering flowers. 
It was already nearly full of geranium cuttings, 
lovely roses, the queenly Malmaison, the great 
white salvatori, the beautiful tea, so deliciously 
tinted that its leaves are like the inside of an ocean 
shell, and full of fragrance. Some of these roses 
were only half-blown, others in the full glory of 
their maturity ; beside there were St. Joseph lilies, 
white jessamine, heliotrope and passion-flowers. 

“I never saw anything so lovely,” said Isabel, 
burying her face in the sweet blossoms. “I have 
been hunting for you everywhere, Gay.” 

“ Have you ? I hope you enjoyed it as much as I 
did hunting for the mole,” said Gay, in her quaint, 
good-natured way. 

“ Not exactly ! But what are you going to do 
with all these lovely flowers ? ” 

“ I'll tell you if you won't laugh at me. Mamma 
gave me leave, you know, and I am going to take 
them to Father Grayson if you will come with me. 

I heard him say he was very fond of flowers him- 
self, but more glad to have them for the church. 


* When Gay made this wish, sewing machines had never 
been thought of. 


156 


TOM-BOY. 


It’s a fanny place to put flowers, but that’s none of 
my business if he likes to have them there.” 

" Of course I’ll go, if mamma does not object.” 
(Isabel, unconsciously almost to herself, had got to 
calling Mrs. Machen mamma, too.) 

" Oh, mamma said I might, if you would go with 
me; I asked her.” 

“1 shall be glad enough to go. When are you 
going to start?” 

" About six o’clock; it is five now, I just heard 
the clock strike.” 

"HI run in and get ready; but you had better 
sprinkle the flowers and set them in the shade, it 
will keep them fresh,” said Isabel, as she turned to 
go to the house. 

The two girls — Gay carrying the basket of flowers 
— went up the well-worn stone steps of Father Gray- 
son’s house, and lifting the knocker — a satyr’s head, 
black with age — let it drop two or three times, and 
heard its noisy echoes running along the old hall. 
Gay looked at the half-human face of the satyr, 
so full of weird expression, and to her sensitive 
imagination it seemed to be grinning at her with a 
wicked smile; then her heart sunk so that she felt 
her hands and feet growing cold, sultry as it was, 
and was half tempted to put down the flowers and 
run. But she heard footsteps coming quickly along 
the hall, the door opened, and there stood Father 
Grayson himself. 

"Why, bless my soul, what a pleasant surprise! 
Come in, my dear children, I am very glad to see 
you both; how do you do?” he said, shaking hands 
with the girls. 


GAY FINDS A REMEDY. 


157 


“ Very well, thank you, Father; we have come to 
bring you some flowers, — at least Gay has,” said 
Isabel, as they followed him into the old-fashioned 
sitting-room. 

“ As if you wouldn’t be welcome without the pre- 
cious flowers!” he answered, kindly. “Come sit 
here by the window, where there’s a little breeze, and 
we’ll place the basket on this chair — now — here we 
are! Oh, dear, what lovely flowers ! I do wonder if 
the famous roses of Peestum were as beautiful as 
these,” said Father Grayson, holding up the full 
blown Malmaison and a half-opened salvatori to- 
gether; “and here is our blessed' St. Joseph’s lily — 
the purest flower that grows upon earth — with its 
leaves like pearl, and its stamens like refined gold ; 
and here is the passion-flower, full of thoughts and 
memories of Calvary; here the white jessamine, 
reminding one of the star of Bethlehem ; and helio- 
trope with its spicy odors, like incense, and under 
all the sweet geranium. This queenly rose,” he 
said, laying it back in the basket, “ reminds me of 
Mary, the ‘ Mystical Rose;’ the white jessamine, of 
her Divine Son; the lily, of St. Joseph ; the pas- 
sion-flower, of Calvary. My child, you did not know 
what a sweet and solemn Litany you had in that bas- 
ket, did you?” 

“No, sir,” she replied, quite forgetting herself in 
the delight of Father Grayson’s beautiful classifica- 
tion of the flowers she had brought him. She had 
always loved flowers enthusiastically, but she should 
love them more than ever now, she thought. 

“Did you bring them to me, or for the church. 
Gay?” 


158 


TOM-BOY. 


“As you please, sir,” answered Gay, her heart 
growing suddenly full of her intention, with a feel- 
ing of fright that nearly benumbed her. 

“ For the Altar, then, and the shrine of our 
Blessed Mother! Would you not like to take your 
beautiful offering into the church yourself?” 

“ I’d rather not, sir, if you’ll please excuse me,” 
replied Gay. 

“Isabel, my child, will you oblige your old Father 
by taking the flowers into the vestry, and arranging 
them in the vases you will find there? Then they 
will be ready to decorate the Altar for early Mass.” 

“I shall be very happy to do so, Father, if you 
think I can fix them prettily.” 

“ I’ll trust you for that, my child. You cannot 
learn younger, and I shall want you to take care of 
the Sanctuary when you are a year or so older.” 

“She fixes flowers beautifully,” said Gay; “they 
look like pictures' when she fixes them, my mamma 
says.” 

Isabel ran with light steps out of the room, de- 
lighted with the task assigned her. 

Gay felt suddenly oppressed ; now was her chance 
if ever to get rid of a weight that had been making 
her heart as heavy as a mill-stone so long. But how 
should she begin ? Her heart was full, and some- 
thing was rising in her throat choking her ; she 
tried to speak, but only a sob burst from her 
lips. 

“ Have you been well, my child? ” inquired Father 
Grayson, who had been watching Gay’s countenance 
for the last few moments, as she sat there before him 
with her eyes cast down, and comprehended with the 


GAY FINDS A REMEDY. 


159 


sagacity of a ripened experience that her errand to 
him had not been simply to bring him flowers. 

“ Yes, sir, I am very — that is I am not sick — but 
oh, sir! may I tell you something ?” 

“ Surely, my dear child ; do not be afraid to open 
your heart to me, then I hope I may be able to help 
you if you have any little trouble to vex you,” he 
replied. 

She dared not hesitate ; Isabel might return, and 
she thought if she lost this chance she would never 
have courage to try again, so she plunged into the 
thick of her troubles, and almost incoherently — so 
anxious was she to have it all out — she told him all, 
hiding nothing, excusing nothing of her sin, but 
showing throughout such penitence, and so strong a 
desire to make amends that the good priest’s heart 
was touched with deep compassion. Then he gravely 
and kindly counseled her; he did not unwisely and 
out of human pity extenuate her fault or make little 
of it, but told her in simple words the only remedy 
that could repair it and bring back her lost peace 
and self-respect. This remedy was a bitter and un- 
palatable one in the extreme to so sensitive a nature 
as Gay’s, but he strengthened her in her resolve to 
make the effort by assuring her of the forgiveness of 
the Almighty God, and that of her parents and 
brother. He told her how the Angels in Heaven re- 
joice over a repentant soul, and bade her grieve no 
more, but have courage and do what he advised. 

“ Yes, sir, I will; and if they do despise me after- 
wards, I can’t be more miserable than I have been 
ever since it happened,” she said. 

“Lose no time, my child; if you get to thinking 


160 


TOM-BOY. 


about it after you get home, your courage will fail, 
Fm afraid,” said the good clergyman. 

It was now quite dusk, and Isabel coming into the 
room with her empty basket, announced her task 
completed. Gay arose to go, and Father Grayson, to 
divert attention from Gay, whose eyes were red with 
weeping, began to talk with Isabel about the vases, 
asking her which she had put the St. Joseph's lilies 
in, and which the roses and so on; then he gave 
them his blessing and they hurried home. 

Tom and Charley were standing on the front 
porch steps evidently waiting for them, and ran to 
meet them as soon as they came in sight. 

“Oh, I've got such news, Gay!” exclaimed Char- 
ley. 

“Where have you both been all this time?” 
growled Tom. 

“ With nobody to speak to a fellow!” added Char- 
ley. “I've a great mind not to tell you a thing.” 

“ Don't then,” said Isabel, who had got almost 
over her dread of boys. 

“I wouldn't, only I think I shall burst if I don't, 
and I know Gay's dying to hear, for all she pretends 
not to care a penny. Well, I'm going away to be a 
midshipman before long, and old Tom Spar has got 
a monkey for me. Isn't that ravishing news?” 

“Oh my!” said Isabel, faintly, “if a monkey 
comes I shall die, I'm so afraid of them.” 

“ You were afraid of us, but we didn’t hurt you, 
you know,” said Tom. 

“Oh, Charley, I’m so sorry you are going away,” 
cried Gay. 

“Never mind, Tom-Boy, you'll have the monkey 


GAY FINDS A REMEDY. 


161 


to remind you of me; aren't you glad there's to be a 
monkey in the family?" 

“Yes, I am glad, Charley; but where's papa, I 
want to find him right off?" 

“He and mamma are in the library, talking over 
matters — ahoy there ! " Charley was already getting 
nautical, you see, but Gay had run up the steps and 
into the house, “before," as he said, “he had any 
chance to get hold of her ‘ hawser lines,' " by which 
he meant her hat strings. 

“ Is it true, Charley ?" asked Isabel, as they stood 
together on the pavement. 

“ About the monkey ? Yes." 

“No, about your going to sea." 

“Yes. Won't it be jolly, though? I’ve been 
wanting to be a sailor ever since I could float a chip 
in a basin of water, and my commission, with a red 
seal and a spread eagle as big as a saucer, came this 
blessed evening from the Secretary of the Navy* 
Hurrah ! I shall keel over with delight ! " 


CHAPTER XT. 
one of darwin’s relations. 

Mr. and Mrs. Machen were in the library, sure 
enough, talking over Charley’s prospects, and mother- 
like, her thoughts had already begun to dwell on the 
possible dangers of the profession he had chosen. 

“1 am sure,” she said, “ after he goes away, I 
shall never hear the wind blow, or see a cloud come 
up, without fearing that my boy is either ship- 
wrecked or drowning.” 

“ There are perils on land as well as at sea ; in 
fact, I think, in proportion, the dangers of the sea 
are fewer of the two ; but we must not begin to 
have gloomy views, wife ; it will take the wind out 
of our boy’s sail before he leaves port.” You see, 
the situation began to infect even Mr. Machen with 
nautical ideas. 

“ I won’t do that ; I want him to go away with a 
glad heart, poor fellow,” said the mother, brushing 
a tear from her cheek. 

“ I will go to the Navy Department to-morrow and 
make inquiries about his outfit, that everything 
may be in readiness, for there’s no telling at what 
moment orders may come for him to join his ship. 
But what about the monkey, wife ? ” 

“ Oh, let the monkey come, if it will make 
Charley happy. I think Gay will be glad to have 
the monkey, poor little girl.” 


ONE OF LAB WIN’S RELATIONS. 163 

“ What is the matter with Gay, wife ? I am 
afraid her temper is being spoilt. Ever since the 
evening I rebuked her about her heedlessness in 
causing all those pigs to rush pell-mell into the 
dining-room, she has not been the same girl. I 
spoke sharply to her, it is true, for I wished her to 
feel the reproof ; but I’m very sure I said nothing 
that she should take to heart so long as this.” 

“ I don't know ; it has given me great concern to 
see her moping and unhappy — even surly at times,” 
answered Mrs. Machen, with a sigh. 

Then they were silent ; the shaded lamp did not 
light the room, it only cast a soft, beautiful shadow 
over everything, like the last lingering touches of 
sunset, when twilight is abroad over the earth. A 
gentle breeze from the river moved the lace curtains, 
and a great cedar tree near the bow-window filled 
the space with its spicy aroma. They were both full 
of their own thoughts, and Mrs. Machen recalled to 
mind what Mammy Dozier had said to her one day 
long ago, when the children were very young and 
troublesome. “Faith!” the old woman remarked, 
“ I don't know how it'll be when they get older ; for 
they're hands-full now, they'll be hearts-full then, 
surely.” “Never,” thought Mrs. Machen, “was 
there a truer saying.” Her heart was very, very 
full. 

But now there was a timid rap at the door, and 
Gay coming in, went and stood before her father, 
with a strange, abrupt movement, which, as she did 
not speak, quite startled her mother and himself. 

“Why, Gay, darling, is it you ?” 


164 


TOM-BOY. 


“ Come sit here, little daughter ; Fin glad to see 
you,” said her father, holding out his hand. 

But she did not take it, nor did she speak ; her 
poor heart was throbbing like a wild, fluttering bird 
in her breast ; her face was crimson with shame, 
and she wished the floor would open and swallow 
her. But the floor did not open and swallow her, 
and she had to finish what she had so bravely begun. 

“ Papa,” she said, in a low, trembling voice, “1 
have come to tell you something.” 

“ What, my dear ? I am listening,” he answered, 
kindly. 

“ Oh, papa ! I know that you and mamma will 
hate me, but I must tell you how sorry I am, and 
ask you to forgive me.” She spoke almost in a 
whisper, now ; but no longer faltered. 

“ My dear child, what are you talking about? ” said 
Mr. Machen, trying to put his arm around her ; 
but Gay drew further away from him. “ What is it 
that we are to forgive ? I had almost forgotten 
your adventure with the pigs, if that has been 
troubling you.” 

“ That had something to do with it ; but, oh 
papa, I told a lie on Davy. I told you that he 
pulled down the plank, when he hadn’t been near 
the place ; and you believed me and whipped him ; 
and oh, I have been so miserable ever since,” she 
sobbed. 

“Unhappy child,” said Mr. Machen, while anger 
and astonishment held the mastery over him for a 
moment, “ how could you ever be so wicked ? ” 

“ I don’t know, papa,” she exclaimed, trembling, 
but bent on telling all, “I pulled down the plank ; I 


ONE OF l)Ali WIN’S BELA TIONS. 165 


wanted to get hold of the little white pig, just to 
hold one minute, and did not know the sow would 
be so savage until she got after me ; than I was so 
scared that I never thought once of dropping the 
pig. 1 hen, papa, I was so ashamed and frightened, 
and so mad about my gosling, that one of the boys 
told me had followed Dave out, that when you asked 
me who pulled the plank down, I told you that he 
did. And I have been nearly heart-broken ever 
since, but was afraid to tell, for I couldn't bear to 
think that you and mamma would never love me 
again.'' 

“My poor little woman," said Mrs. Machen, 
drawing Gay to her bosom, “I forgive you with all 
my heart, and I shall love you better than ever, 
because you have honestly and honorably done all 
that you can to atone for your fault." 

“ I forgive you, my child, in the firm hope that 
you will never be guilty of the same sin again. It 
was your first, and it will, I am sure, be your last 
lie. I have nothing to say, my little girl, because 
your own conscience has punished you sufficiently," 
said her father, as he leaned over and kissed her. 

“I have been very unhappy, papa; and now if 
you and mamma cast me off, I don't know what I 
will do." 

“ There's no danger of that, my darling, we will 
only love and trust you the more, not for your 
fault, but for your reper;tance," they assured her. 

“ Thank you, papa ; I shall try to be very good, 
and mind all that you and mamma tell me," she 
sobbed, on her father's breast, “but I must go now 
and tell Davy, too, how mean and wicked I was." 


166 


TOM-BOY. 


“ Let me manage that, my dear ; leave that to 
me. You have told your fault to your mother and 
myself. We — your mother and I — are satisfied, aye, 
thankful that you had the courage to do what you 
have done.” 

“ You are very good to me, papa and mamma ! '' 

“ Run up to your room now, my child ; bathe your 
eyes and get rested by the time the tea-bell rings/' 
said her father, leading her by the hand to the door, 
which he opened for her. 

How lightly she tripped upstairs ; how blithely 
her heart was beating, to think they knew her 
dreadful secret, and had forgiven her so sweetly ! 
Then she thought of what Isabel had told her about 
Confession when she said how badly she felt before, 
and how happy after going. 

After tea, and while the family still sat around 
the table talking and laughing, the boys chaffing 
each other as boys will do, and Gay and Isabel as 
merry as two little crickets, Mr. Machen gave a rap 
on the table with his knuckles, that made the cups 
and saucers jingle, and called everybody's attention 
instantly to himself. 

“ Hear ! ” exclaimed Tom, in a gruff voice, won- 
dering what was up. 

“That's parliamentary !'' said Charley. 

“ Silence, boys/' said Mr. Machen, turning 
towards Davy, whose eyes were growing rounder and 
brighter every moment, with curiosity that was 
fairly running over. “Dave, my boy/' said his 
father, “ we' had a misunderstanding awhile ago, 
and I punished you for a thing that you did not do. 
Now I have found out all about it, quite unexpect- 


ONE OF OAF WIN * S BELA TIONS. 1 67 


edly, and I want to tell you, my man, how sorry I 
am for that trouncing I gave you.” 

“ 1 — I — didn’t mind it much, papa!” burst out 
Davy, his face crimson with blushes; “only I 
didn’t know what ’twas about altogether.” 

“Whew, ain’t that jolly! Look here, father, I 
told Dave it would come out like a story,” cried 
Tom, “I knew Dave didn’t do that.” 

“I knew he didn’t deserve it, but he will some 
time or other all the same,” repeated Charley, 
looking very wise. Then they all laughed as if 
he had said something very witty, and Mrs. 
Machen hugged and kissed her shaggy-headed Dave; 
then Isabel — usually so undemonstrative — threw her 
arms about him and kissed his cheek, she was so 
glad that the good natured little fellow had been 
cleared so handsomely, upon which he was so 
ashamed that his first impulse was to go heels over 
head under the table, but Gay had stolen to his 
side, and stood there, holding his hand tightly in 
her own. 

And then it all ended in such a game of romps as 
had never been known in the house before ; while 
Mr. Machen smoked his cigar and watched their 
pranks with content in his heart, and a twinkle 
in his eyes, which looked very much as if he 
would — but for his dignity — have been glad to take 
part in the fun. 

Gay was once more happy and full of life, but 
the thought of her fault and what she had suffered 
through it, acted as a moral check-rein upon her 
wild spirits, when they were disposed to lead her 
beyond bounds. She was not tamed, be it un- 


168 


TOM-BOY . 


derstood ; she was still tom-boyish enough in all 
conscience, for her brothers could not get on with- 
out her in their plays and she was always ready 
enough to play with them, but she was a degree 
more careful of her clothes, and it was evident that 
she tried her best, with frequent failures, to keep 
herself more tidy, and to be more gentle in her 
manners. 

Now I am going to tell you something about 
that monkey you have heard of once or twice 
already, only I am afraid that I shall not be able 
to describe what happened as funnily as it was in 
reality. First of all, you must know there was 
a summer kitchen at the back of Mr. Machen’s 
house where the cooking, brewing and baking were 
always done in hot weather. 

That had a big copper boiler built in it ; a 
large cooking stove ; a brick floor, and a great 
folding door that turned back, leaving the whole 
front entirely open. Running all the way down 
to the poultry yard and alley was a grape arbor, cov- 
ered with luxuriant vines and fruit, which shaded 
the summer kitchen beautifully, and made it 
look quite like a bower, where old Aunt Sukey, 
dressed up in a gay calico and bright head-handker- 
chief, used to reign like a queen, with everything 
around shining and spotless, for she was especially 
nice in her ways. She was a fat old Aunty as black 
as the ace of spades, and she had a way of sing- 
ing to herself all the time in an undertone, that the 
boys called purring. Joining the summer kitchen 
was the hot house ; then came the tool house ; then 
the carriage house and stable, above which was the 


ONE OF DARWIN’S RELATIONS. 


169 


pigeon-cote ; these buildings were all in a line and 
extended to the poultry-yard which opened into 
an alley. Opposite the hot-house, across the wide 
gravelled walk, there was another grape arbor, at 
the end of which there was about a quarter of an 
acre of the smoothest-shaven grass, where the 
laundress used to bleach her linen. On the other 
side of this row of out-houses, which formed a 
compact brick wall all the way along, there were 
two or three small gardens belonging to some houses 
that fronted on a lane, which were occupied by plain 
laboring people. A widow named Watts lived in 
one of them, who took in fine washing, for the sup- 
port of her children ; an industrious, hard working 
woman, for whom the Machens had great respect, 
and helped in many kind, neighborly ways. Two 
old maids — Germans they were — lived next door to 
Mrs. Watts, who supported themselves by quilt- 
ing silk petticoats, which were then fashionable, 
and bed-quilts, in the most bewildering patterns. 

Now, that you understand the topography of the 
place, I will go on with my story, only stopping 
long enough to tell you, that wandering at will, and 
petted by everybody, from Mr. Machen down, there 
was a fat, sleek, dignified cat, whose reputation as a 
mouser was unrivalled. You will see, presently, 
that it was necessary to your enjoyment to be made 
acquainted with all these things and persons, espe- 
cially the cat. 

The sun was shining brightly one morning, 
shortly after the events we have related, took place. 
There was a delightful breeze from the river; the 
oleanders nodded their heavy pink blossoms to the 


170 


TOM-BOY. 


fluffy crape jessamine; the hydrangeas, purple, pink 
and sea-green, looked as if a rainbow had made love 
to them; tuberoses filled the air with fragrance, 
and the great clusters of grapes ripening in the 
September sun, threw out a bouquet that made one’s 
mouth water. Aunt Sukey was sitting at her 
kitchen table, which was always scrubbed as white 
as could be, with a large wooden bowl filled with 
crabs, which she had just taken out of the boiler 
before her. She began to crack open the pretty, 
scarlet shells, to clear out the “dead men,” and 
pick out the meat, to “devil” them for dinner, 
purring contentedly over her work. The pigeons 
were flying up and down from their cote, quite 
beside themselves with delight; while from the gar- 
den on the opposite side, which was separated from 
this part of the premises by a high wire-work fence 
covered with vines, came the sound of laughter and 
merriment from the children, who were there at 
play. It was really like Eden there that day, 
everything was so peaceful and lovely, but — 

The front door bell rang with a sudden peal that 
resounded through the house out to the summer 
kitchen, where Aunt Sukey was picking crabs, and 
she wondered whose “ Sarsy footman ” it was that 
was pulling the bell down. 

At this moment Mammy Dozier, coming slowly 
down the gravel walk with a large china basin in 
her hand, filled with some of Mrs. Machen's fine 
laces and two of her own Sunday caps, and bobi- 
net neck-handkerchiefs, walked past the summer 
kitchen for the purpose of spreading them out 
on the grass-plot to bleach. 'Tilly, the cat, was 


ONE ON BAR WIN'S RELATIONS. 


171 


sleeping the sleep of innocence under a rose 
bush, dreaming, doubtless, of cat-paradise, where 
an illimitable number of fat mice abound. Mrs. 
Watts was washing under a tree at the bottom 
of her garden, which was bounded by the wall 
of Mr. Machen’s hot-house, and she was singing: 
“On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,” while she 
made the suds fly, and wrung out clothes. The 
two old maids were quilting a satin petticoat in 
a feather pattern, and talking German in a way that 
put there palates in danger. The house-servant, 
Jake, had gone down town on an errand, and as 
fate ordered it, Aunt Su key’s little grand-daughter, 
who had come over from “ Tanglebrake ” to spend 
the day with her, and was upstairs with Winny, 
was sent down by that thoughtless woman to answer 
the bell, a thing she would not have ventured 
on, had Mrs. Machen been at home. 

“Kun down and open the hall door, honey, and 
see who’s thar, and tell ’em Misses is out.” 

And she ran, not only ran, hut opened the door 
wide, full of the curiosity of her race, eager to see 
who was there; and there stood a boy with a mon- 
key in his arms, that looked so like a very quiet, 
well behaved, but extremely ugly human, that the 
child, who had never seen one before, thought that 
it must be “one of the poor trash children,” that 
she had so often heard the plantation people talk 
about. 

“Does Mr. Machen live here, gal?” 

“Yes, him does.” 

“ Can I see him?” 

“Him’s gone ’way, an’ dar’s nobody home but 


172 


TOM-BOY. 


me, an’ Aunt Winny, an* granny, an’ t’other ole’ 
white ’oman,” meaning Mammy Dozier. 

“Well, I’ve got to leave this fellow here, and if 
you’ll show me the way I’ll take him to your 
granny.” 

“ Come ’long,” said Miss Betsy, skipping along 
before him, highly delighted; “come this-a-way.” 

So they went out towards the summer kitchen 
where Aunt Sukey was picking crabs, and the boy, 
who had been bitten and scratched by the monkey 
on his way there, put the creature down upon the 
gravel, saying: “It’s for Mr. Machen,” and ran off 
as if he expected the monkey to spring at his throat. 
Aunt Sukey just looked up in time to see a diaboli- 
cal looking imp standing in the doorway, grinning 
and snapping his elfish eyes at her. She gave a 
howl, and threw a crab at his head, upon which he 
dodged, seized the sleek, innocent ’Tilly in his arms, 
cuffed her cheeks severely; then clambered up to 
the grape arbor with her, making a noise like casti- 
nets, while she broke forth into a caterwauling which 
sounded almost like human lamentations. Still 
slapping the unoffending and squalling cat, he gal- 
loped over the trellis work of the arbor to the end of 
it, where he stopped to “ reconnoitre.” He was right 
over Mammy Dozier’s head, who had not yet set the 
basin of blue-water and laces out of her hands; she 
heard an unearthly voice above her, and looking up 
saw what she thought was the devil, grinning and 
winking with his wicked eyes at her. She gave a 
wild shriek, dropped the basin, which broke to 
pieces, and run for her life towards the house, puffing 
out a hoarse scream at every step. But the monk «y 


ONE OF DARWIN’S RELATIONS. 


173 


did not pursue, he only flung down the astonished 
cat, and ran over a light trellis work that extended 
from the grape arbor to the tool-house, covered 
with Chinese honeysuckle, scrambled over the roof 
to the edge of the hot-house, and sat listening to 
Mrs. Watts singing about “Casting a wishful eye 
to Canaan’s fair and happy land where my posses- 
sions lie.” And he evidently liked it, for he leaped 
down into a tree near her, and suddenly swung him- 
self out of it upon her shoulders and peeped round 
in her face. Mrs. Watts gave a yell so shrill, full of 
terror, and prolonged, that it’s a wonder she did not 
split her windpipe, or fall down in a fit; for, as she 
said afterwards, she thought “it was one of the 
imps of Satan come to carry her off.” It scared the 
monkey, however, who then sprang down from her 
shoulders, and scampered along the garden, over the 
fence, and never stopped until he bounced through 
the window and perched himself on the frame where 
the two German old maids were quilting, and ad- 
miring their work. 

“ Gott!” shrieked one. 

“Dormer und blitzen! ” howled the other. They 
threw scissors and spools at him, and then went 
tumbling headlong under the frame, their solid 
flesh quaking with horror. One of the big spools 
cracked the monkey on his head; however, he did 
not mind that much, but scampered all over the ele- 
gant satin petticoat; took up a needle-book and 
picked every needle out of it, throwing them this 
way and that; put on Miss Dorothy’s spectacles up- 
side down on his nose, then not knowing what was 
the matter that he couldn’t see, flung them out in 


174 


TOM-BOY. 


the cabbage bed; he puckered up the threads of 
their work, run a needle into his paw; sprang out of 
the window and retraced his steps. He was a tired 
monkey if there ever was one, and after he got back 
to the roof of the hot-house by means of the tree, 

1 he rested there for awhile, catching the long-legged 
spiders that were sunning themselves there, eating 
them as fast as he caught them. After regaling 
himself in this manner for some moments, he 
scrambled back over the trellis-work, along the 
grape arbor, right over the summer kitchen door. 
Aunt Sukey had recovered from her fright, and was 
just beginning to stuff the crab shells, when she 
heard something plump down at the door, and there 
he was again! But he was very quiet. He appeared 
tired and hurt, and Aunt Sukey stood, her arms 
akimbo, her head a little on one side, looking at 
him, and he looking at her. 

“Shoo!” she said, flirting her apron at him. 
But he only winked at her. 

“Shoo!” He did not move but grabbed a fly and 
ate it. 

“ Shoo, I tells you ! ” But he wasn’t to be “ shoo’d ” 
off like a chicken, and he did not budge, but kept 
looking at her out of his wicked red eyes, working 
and snapping them in such a way that she was 
scared beyond expression. She was afraid to throw 
the rolling pin or tea-kettle at him, for fear he’d 
spring at her, and tear her eyes out with his long, 
black fingers. To make matters worse the fire had 
gone down, and there was not a scrap of coal or a 
bit of wood out of the cellar, and it was high time 
she had begun to get dinner. But she dared do 


ONE OF DARWIN’S RELATIONS. 


175 


nothing, only stand there looking at her enemy, on 
guard to save her eyes and neck from his long, horrid, 
hairy, fingers. Winny and Teresa were watching the 
scene out of the dining-room window, having closed 
every door and window in the house lest the creature 
should get in. They were afraid to come out, and 
Teresa was laughing until the tears ran down her 
cheeks. But she did not laugh later, when the 
monkey, being brought into the house by Mr. Ma- 
chen’s orders, caught sight of the girTs red head 
and flew into such a rage under the sudden 
antipathy that it raised in him, that if he had 
not been fastened with a rope at the time, he 
would have tried to kill her. But I will not antic- 
ipate. 

Now the beleaguered old Aunty thought relief was 
at hand, for she heard the children coming from the 
garden towards the house; but the boys went out 
into the street by the garden gate, and only Gray 
and Isabel, sauntering slowly along, and talking 
quietly, appeared., 

“ Come here, Gay, come here, my little Missis,” 
screamed Aunt Sukey. 

The girls heard her, and started to run, when 
they suddenly saw the monkey. Isabel shrieked, 
and raced off like a deer, never stopping until she 
got into her room and locked the door; there she 
fell panting on the bed, and cried with fright, like a 
great baby. 

Gay burst out laughing, and running up to the 
monkey, said : 

“ Give us your paw; ” and the monkey, like a well 
conducted gentleman, held out his hand to be 


176 


TOM-BOY. 


shaken^ It was the first word of welcome he had 
received and he evidently appreciated it. 

“ Don’t tech him, chile! don't you!” 

“Where's the harm? I'm not afraid.'' 

“ Make him go 'way then for the Lord's sake, if 
you ain't afeared!'' 

“For what? he likes to stay here, don't you, little 
man?'' The monkey grinned, then turned a vicious 
look at Aunt Sukey, and sprung his rattle. 

“Thar now! jest hear him! an' you ask me for 
what?'' exclaimed the old woman, while a gray 
shadow crept over her black skin, “he's done harf 
killed 'Tilly, and I 'spect Miss Dozier's in a fit of 
'plex-ey, he skeert her so, and I heard Miss Watts 
screechin’, then the two ole Dutch ladies, I dunno 
what fie went and did to 'em, may be he killed 'em, 
and 'fore I knowed it here he come agin, and is bin 
sittin' thar watchin' me like a tarrier dog at a rat 
hole, ever since.'' 

“ How funny! I can't help laughing, Aunt Sukey, 
indeed I can’t!'' cried Gay, almost breathless, “I 
declare it's the funniest thing I ever heard of; but 
indeed he won't hurt you.” 

“ You won't git no dinner to-day if he stays thar, 
that's all.” 

“Oh! do you hear that, little man?” said Gay 
holding her sides at the monkey's quizzical look. 

He seemed to hear it and understand it too, for 
he turned suddenly round and before they could see 
which way he went, he disappeared; disappeared so 
completely that Aunt Sukey thought he was gone for 
good and all, but she “ counted without her host,” as 
the saying is, as I will tell you in the next chapter. 


CHAPTER XII. 


MORE ABOUT THE MONKEY. 

“Well! bless God I say exclaimed Aunt Sukey, 
with heartfelt relief. Then she chuckled to herself, 
and nodded her head slowly, as if puzzled by a con- 
undrum that was too much for her; wiped the sweat 
of terror from her face, and set about arranging the 
crab-shells, all nicely stuffed with bread crumbs and 
crab-meat seasoned with chopped parsley, pepper, 
and salt, in a large pan, preparatory to putting them 
into the oven to brown, when she made her fire. 
She raked down the ashes, brushed up the hearth, 
then humming some plantation ditty, off she 
marched towards the cellar for coal and kindling 
wood, hoping and praying that she might never lay 
her eyes on another monkey while she had breath. 
Gay was searching everywhere for her new acquaint- 
ance, and made Teresa — who was nothing loth — 
come out to help her. 

Aunt Sukey descended the cellar steps, some ten 
in all, stopped in the area, and placing her hands 
upon her hips — for she had slight misgivings — stood 
peering through the cellar door before she ventured 
to go in. But everything was as quiet there as a 
grave yard; her courage rose, and renewing her song 
she plunged in. She filled her coal hod, and was now 
stooping down to gather up an arm full of light- 
wood, when she felt something seize her skirts be- 


178 


TOM-BOY. 


hind and give them a vigorous shake; she looked 
ever her shoulder and there he was — he had been 
lying in wait for her — and now he had her! Des- 
perate with terror she flung the hod of coal at the 
monkey and made for the door, where Gay and 
Teresa saw her coming up the steps hand over 
hand, not waiting to walk, but scrambling up, 
thinking that four legs were better than two, when 
there was a monkey in the rear. 

“Is he there? Oh, Aunt Sukey, is the monkey 
in the cellar?” asked Gay, weak with laughter. 

“ You's jest as bad as he is. G'long, you two. Dm 
gwine right down straight to marster's office; I won't 
stay on de place wid sich a varmint,” burst out the 
old woman, puffing and panting with her exertions. 

“ Oh, there's Jake! Oh, Jake, just do come here! 
We've got a beautiful monkey; the cunningest little 
fellow you ever saw, do please come and catch him,” 
said Gay, highly excited. 

“Monkey!” exclaimed Jake, looking bewildered, 
“Sure 'nuff, Miss Gay.” 

“Look yere, Jake,” cried Aunt Sukey, taking 
hold of his arm, “ you go an’ take dat ar piece of 
close-line hangin' on dat ar nail, an' go down dis 
minit an' cotch dat devil, an' tie him up somewhar 
'till marster an' missus come home; ef you don't I’ll 
give you a thrashin' you'll 'member 'till your dyin' 
day.” 

Jake was twenty-two or three years old, and was 
proud of his beard, but he knew better than not to 
obey orders given in that sort of way by his mother; he 
knew too, that if she was afraid of a monkey, she 
had never yet seen the man she stood in dread of. 


MORE ABOUT THE MONKEY. 179 

not even Mr. Machen himself, whom she made noth- 
ing- of hauling over the coals whenever he’d happen 
to be cheated in market, either in measure of vege- 
tables and fruit, or the cut and quality of the meat 
he purchased. 

“I’d have his ugly head chopped off wid the axe 
if I had my way: dar now, you g’long and tie him, 
then fotch me up some wood and coal,” said Aunt 
Sukey, wrathily’ as she waddled back to the kitchen, 
with part of her bright calico dress trailing in tat- 
ters behind her, a thing which it might have been 
dangerous to call her attention to then, but which 
Gay and Teresa spied, and got behind the apricot 
tree until she went past, for fear she’d see them 
laughing. She took such pride in her clothes, and 
was so careful of them, that when she used to say, 
which she did very often, “You may tar my skin, 
but don’t tech my close,” everybody believed her, 
and it was no wonder that Teresa whispered: 

“ Won’t she be madder than she is now when she 
finds out he’s torn her dress?” 

“Whew!” was all Gay could get out, to signify 
the monstrous rage Aunt Sukey would be in; then 
she laughed until she fell over on Teresa, as the 
ludicrous aspect of the whole scene rose before her 
vivid fancy. 

Jake captured the monkey without much trouble, 
for the cunning wretch saw at once that he had got 
some one to deal with who was not afraid of him in 
the least; besides, he felt a sort of brotherhood with 
him, and made no attempt to escape. One end of 
the rope was tied round his neck, the other secured 
by a strong knot to the apricot tree, where the captive 


180 


TOM-BOY . 


immediately, and with an air of business, set to 
work catching “ daddy-long-legs,” which he ate 
with great relish. Gay flew in and got crackers, 
some lumps of sugar, a handful of nuts and a raw 
tomato, which she spread on the grass before him, 
and was nearly beside herself with delight, watching 
his quaint elfish countenance and ridiculous motions 
while making his repast. He stopped eating, fre- 
quently, to wink at her, and lick his chops and fin- 
gers, one by one; then, when least expected, he’d 
make a spring towards Teresa, whose red head 
seemed to infuriate him when he looked at her. 

At dinner, Gay had a great deal to tell about the 
monkey. The boys were enchanted, and thought 
they had never heard anything half so jolly; they 
wanted to rush away from the table to take a look at 
the “ fellow,” as they called him, but that was not per- 
mitted, so they contented themselves with hearing the 
particulars of his performances, which lost nothing 
from Gay’s telling. Mr. Machen laughed heartily 
with the young folks, but he saw trouble ahead 
with such an inmate to the fore, and said he “had 
never heard of so stupid a thing in his life, as set- 
ting a monkey down in a strange place as if it had 
been a child.” 

“ I met the old fellow who gave him to me down 
town this morning and he told me he was going to 
send him up, but I forgot all about it,” said Charley. 
“He told me he would have let me have him long 
ago, but the lady that he gave him to first, couldn’t 
make up her mind to part with him, though she 
had been talking about it ever since last spring 
when he came near setting the house on fire by rak- 


MORE ABOUT THE MONKEY. 


181 


ing the coals out of the furnace all over the cellar 
floor. As we have no furnace, father, I thought it 
would be safe to have him here, and be fun for Gay 
and the boys.” 

“He’s a dangerous fellow to have round, my boy, 
but if he can be kept out of mischief he can stay. 
But I won’t have Sukey and my good neighbors 
scared out of their wits just for the sake of having a 
monkey’s pranks to laugh over.” 

“ Oh, we’ll keep him tied, papa. I think he’s the 
sweetest, prettiest thing I ever saw! ” exclaimed Gay. 

“ Tying won’t do much good my dear; I must get 
a light steel chain and collar for — ” 

“ Bob is his name, father,” struck in Charley. 

“Very well; if he stays we’ll get a steel chain 
for Bob and see what turns up. I confess though,” 
added Mr. Machen, laughing heartily, “ that I have 
a great repugnance to monkeys, they are such per- 
fect caricatures of man that it makes me ashamed 
of myself to look one in the face.” 

« I think they're awful,” remarked Isabel; “lam 
dreadfully afraid of them.” 

“ Are you, my child? Then Bob shall be kept 
somewhere in the grounds, where you will never see 
him unless you wish it,” said Mrs. Machen, who had 
been enjoying with unusual zest Gay’s absurd ac- 
count of the morning's adventure. 

“ Oh, I shan’t be so much afraid of him if he’s 
chained to a tree. I don’t mind the sight of him 
so much, but if he was running about loose, I should 
be all the time expecting him to spring at me,” 
said Isabel quickly, afraid of doing or saying the 
least thing that would in the slightest degree inter- 


182 


TOM-BOY. 


fere with the enjoyments of her young companions, 
to whom she felt more and more attached every day. 

The monkey was the centre of attraction to the 
entire household all that afternoon. The boys 
brought in some of their friends to see the show, 
and as if he understood what they came for, “ Bob ” 
exhibited antics that exceeded anything he had 
yet done. Everything was laid aside to watch the 
monkey by everybody in that well-ordered household, 
except Mammy Dozier and Aunt Sukey, who shut 
themselves up in their rooms, in a state of extreme 
disgust. Gay was sure that the monkey was an en- 
chanted prince, and determined to make up a beau - 
tiful and wonderful story about him; she seemed 
spell-bound by his grotesque ugliness, while his 
knowing looks almost threw her into convulsions of 
laughter. But he got tired at last, and clambered 
up among the branches of the apricot tree, nor 
could all their efforts or bribes of nuts and sugar 
bring him down again, until they had gone away, 
and it grew dark; then no doubt if he could have 
spoken, he would have asked to be taken into the 
house, for he had always been a house-pet. 

That night the tailor sent Charley’s navy outfit 
home, and the boy was taken up into Mrs. Machen’s 
room where by her permission the two girls and 
the boys followed her to inspect and admire the 
young Middy’s uniform. Mr. Machen was in the 
library with Father Grayson, who came in occasion- 
ally to spend the evening, and was always a most wel- 
come visitor. It entered into Gay’s head in the 
midst of the unpacking, that it would complete 
their enjoyment if they could only have Bob up for 


MORE ABOUT THE MONKEY. 


183 


a little while “ just a little while, mamma,” she 
pleaded. 

“What nonsense. Gay! Of course not,” answered 
Mrs. Machen, folding and unfolding various gar- 
ments that were to be marked. 

“ Ah, but mamma, you never saw such a forlorn, 
lonely looking little thing in all your life; he looks 
like a deserted child, sitting crouched up under the 
tree with his head between his knees, shivering; 
and I do believe he’s crying,” said Gay. 

“ And you haven’t seen him yet, mamma, do let 
him come?” added Charley. 

“What do you say, Isabel dear?” interrogated 
Mrs. Machen, who did not feel in a mood to refuse 
any request of her boy who was to leave her so soon. 

“Oh, I don’t think I shall mind; I’ll get away 
back in the corner out of his reach,” replied Isabel 
determined to be brave. 

“He shan’t hurt you, Isabel, or come near you; 
if he does I’ll strangle him,” said Charley straight- 
ening himself up and throwing back his shoulders, 
looking so handsome and manly, that his mother 
felt more proud of him than she had ever done in 
her life. He still had on the midshipman jacket 
with its gilt eagle buttons and gold anchor on the 
collar, which he had tried on to see if it fit him, 
and it was very becoming to him. 

So the monkey was brought up, led by the rope, 
and a more dejected-looking creature could not be 
imagined; Jake let out just enough rope to allow 
him to move freely, and when he got into the mid- 
dle of the room, he actually put his hand over his 
eyes to shade off the bright lamp-light, as if dazzled 


184 


TOM-BOY . 


by it, and stood scrutinizing the countenance of 
each individual present; then, moved by some intelli- 
gence beyond instinct, he walked straight up to 
Mrs. Machen, crouched down, and laid his head 
upon her feet, as properly as any other Oriental 
might have done in the presence of his Sultan. 

“ Poor little fellow!” said Mrs. Machen, quite 
touched by such gentle submission, while she patted 
him on the head. “ Why, how docile he is! ” 

Bob raised himself up, and laid his head upon his 
knees, and, encouraged by her kind voice and caress- 
ing hand, he moved again, and rested it upon her 
shoulder. Even Isabel was reassured by this pan- 
tomime, and they all gathered in an admiring circle 
around him, declaring that it was nothing but 
fright at being in a strange place that had made 
him behave so when he first came, poor little fellow. 
But Mrs. Machen had to go on with her unpacking 
and assorting, and when she got up off her chair. 
Bob leaped upon the carved foot-round of her bed- 
stead, a great old-fashioned four-poster, so high 
that steps had to be used to mount into it, and so 
wide that four persons could have slept in it with- 
out crowding; it had a tester over it from which 
hung a lace mosquito net, that was looped up on 
each side with cord and tassels in the daytime, form- 
ing a very pretty drapery. Two large pillows with 
fluted ruffling completed the belongings of this 
stately, old-fashioned piece of furniture. Bob sat 
there in a contemplative mood, a model of propriety; 
but his gravity was so comical, and he now and 
then whisked himself round in so grotesque a way 
that his audience was diverted beyond measure, and 


MORE ABOUT THE MONKEY. 


185 


ventured one by one to offer their hands, and I 
declare no American President could have gone 
through a hand-shaking with better grace. Jake 
was summoned to the hall door by the bell, and 
hastily tying the end of the rope he had been 
holding to the bed-post, he ran to answer it, and 
returned in a few minutes with a small package 
which he had orders, he said, to place in Mrs. Ma- 
chen's own hands, which he did. Her children 
gathered around her, to see what new wonder the 
newly done up parcel contained; strings were cut 
and the wrappings were thrown aside, and there 
was a nice morocco case, which, on being opened 
disclosed a handsome silver watch, and a finely- 
wrought steel chain, with a real gold key attached 
to it, for Charley, his mother's parting present. 
While they were all admiring the watch, and con- 
gratulating Charley on its possession, while Tom 
rubbed his hand on his brother's cheek, to “ find 
out," he said, “ if his sea-wliiskers were sprouting," 
and Dave “ wondered if he'd look at a fellow, now 
that he had a watch," Bob was left to his own 
devices, when finding himself unnoticed, he 
galloped up to the head of the bed, where he had 
espied an end of something sticking out, and 
seizing it he drew out a handsome, French- 
embroidered, lace-trimmed nightcap of Mrs. 
Machen's, and with the same sad, innocent smile 
on his puckered countenance, that had won that 
trusting woman's sympathy, he began to while 
away the moments by tearing the fine muslin strings 
into shreds, when Teresa — but that instant released 
from Mammy Dozier’s service — came in, breathless, 


186 


TOM-BOY. 


having heard that the monkey was there. Bob 
caught sight of her red head at the same moment 
that she caught sight of the mischief he was at, 
and both at once sprang at each other, she to get 
Mrs. Machen’s cap out of his clutches, he to tear 
her eyes out, if he could. Teresa’s shrill outcries, 
the monkey’s fierce, rattling, shrill- voiced wrath; 
the short, violent struggle that ensued, resulted in 
her getting the cap, which she threw into the mid- 
dle of the floor, but she could not free herself from 
the clutch of the vicious animal, who not only tan- 
gled his long black fingers in her hair and tore it 
out by the roots, but fastened his teeth on her cheek 
and bit it until the blood ran. It all happened in a 
minute, although it takes longer to describe the 
scene. Charley threw his arm around Isabel, and 
put her out of reach of the monkey, in case he 
should spring, while Jake once more rushed to the 
rescue, and captured Bob, by choking him. One 
moment Teresa was heard yelling, the next Jake 
had the monkey by the nape of the neck, shaking 
him. 

“ Jake,” said Mrs. Machen, in that tone which 
always indicated that she had put her “ foot down,” 
“ that monkey must go. I wont have him here an- 
other day; he’s a treacherous, vicious, tricky brute, 
and you may have him to sell to the Museum if you 
like. Take him away and don’t let me see or hear 
of him again. 

“ Yes, Missis, thank’ee; I know I can get five 
dollars for him,” said Jake, showing his white teeth 
in a broad grin. 

“I’m sorry for it, Charley, my boy, but I couldn’t 


MORE ABOUT THE MONKEY. 


187 


stand the disturbance he'd be constantly raising 
around me,” she said, turning her flushed face 
towards her boy. 

“You’re right, mother; I see it would not do, and 
he frightens Isabel to death; just see how white she 
is; besides, Gay is so venturesome he might hurt 
her badly,” Charley answered. 

“No, he wouldn't,” snapped Gay, ready to cry 
with disappointment. 

“ Take the fellow away, Jake, you may have him.” 

“Thank'ee, Mass'r Charley, thank'ee sir.” Exit 
Jake and the monkey. 

Then Mrs. Machen bathed Teresa's cheek, which 
was pretty severely bitten, and put some healing 
salve upon it, and smoothed out her tangled hair, 
wiped away her tears, for, between her hurt, her fury 
and the scare she got, she cried bitterly. Gay 
felt sorry for her companion in mischief, but could 
not control her laughter. She had one of those un- 
fortunate dispositions that the very contrast of some- 
thing dreadful with the ludicrous side of an event 
made it more perfectly irresistible; perhaps it was 
the inborn contrariness of human nature that made 
her enjoy a laugh all the more at times, and on 
occasions when she should have been quiet and 
decorous. But she could not help it, and ran off to 
her own room, where she could laugh without being 
seen and censured for want of feeling. The next 
morning when Mammy Dozier heard about the 
affair, it quite reconciled her to her own fright, 
for she felt avenged for the way she had been treated 
by Bob's relations at the menagerie. 

“It's a judgment on you, you pert minx, for 


188 


TOM-BOY. 


larfin’ at me, at that ungodly place where my 
bonnet was tore to shreds off my head, before my 
very eyes, and you to the fore grinnin’ worse’r any 
of ’em, * said Mammy Dozier, shaking her finger at 
Teresa, after which she fished a silver quarter out 
of the depths of her pocket and gave it to her 
to buy candy with, much to her astonishment and 
delight. There’s no salve of healing to equal the 
law of compensation. 

Everybody thought the monkey was done with, 
but they had not yet seen the last of him. At 
breakfast Mr. Machen came in after every one 
had taken their seats at the table, with an amused 
smile upon his countenance. He wished them a 
cheerful “good morning” and taking his chair, 
asked a blessing as usual, the only religious formula 
customary in the family. 

“ I hope I shan’t have to go without my dessert at 
dinner for being late at breakfast, wife,” he said, 
with a twinkle in his eye. 

“That depends on circumstances; discipline must 
be preserved you know,” answered Mrs. Machen, 
smiling. “What mischief have you been in this 
morning? ” 

“ I’ll own up,” he replied, “ for the sake of exam- 
ple you know. I thought I’d go down to the 
poultry- yard this morning and take a look at those 
Cochin-China fowls I sent home the other day. 
While I stood watching them as they picked up 
the grain I threw them, I thought I heard an un- 
usual number of people moving about in the alley. 
I opened the gate to see what was going on just as 
old Shadrach the whitewasher was coming by. 


MORE ABOUT THE MONKEY. 189 

‘Good morning, Uncle Shadrach; what’s going on 
here?’ 

“‘Nothin’ much, sir, ’xcpting a monkey dat 
Nancy Gray, her boy’s got ’zibiting at two cents a 
head dar in her house.’ 

“Then,” said Mr. Machen, “he looked up into my 
face, wife, his own black, wrinkled, and puckered 
and not much larger then the monkey’s, lie’s so old, 
and putting his head on one side, asked me this 
conundrum: ‘Does you think. Mars’ Mach in, dat 
dat warmint dey’s got in dar’s a animal?’ 

“‘Yes, indeed, my old friend; what else should 
it be? ’ I answered. 

“‘I’se too ole to be fooled, Marse. I know bet- 
ter. I’se been a studyin’ dat cretur for a hour’n mo’ 
an I tell you, Marsa, he’s folks, only lie won’t 
talk, cos he knows fast ’nuff white people’d sot him 
to work.’ # 

“ I knew,” added Mr. Machen, “ that there’d be 
no use in attempting to argue a question like 
that with the old fellow, so I gave him a dime 
to buy some tobacco to have a good smoke over 
the discovery.” 

The little incident amused them all very much, 
and the boys said they’d go and see the show. 

“ So you’ve gone into the show business, Jake?” 
remarked Charley, when Jake came in to clear 
off the table. 

“Yes’r, Joe Gray’n I went pardners to show 
the monkey, sir, ’til I could take him to the 


* The monkey episode and this conversation, is literal 
truth. 


190 


TOM-BOY. 


Museum, an* it’s bin right profible so fur, sir,” 
answered Jake, with a broad grin, as he flourished 
the table napkins he was folding, with that in- 
describable air of importance which was one of 
the characteristics of the Southern house servants 
of that period. 

Then everybody thought surely they had seen the 
last of the monkey, but that day at noon the old 
sailor who had given him to Charley Machen, rang 
at the door, and asked to see him. Charley was with 
his mother — he seldom left her now — and she told 
Jake to invite the old man into the dining-room, 
but he was too bashful to accept the invitation, 
and sent word that he “ only wanted to see mid- 
shipman Charley a minute at the door.” Charley 
went out to him instantly, but came flying back 
quickly to tell his mother that the old fellow 
had come to pay the monkey a visit. “ I didn’t tell 
him we’d given him away to be sold, and good gra- 
cious, mother, what shall I do ?” 

“Wait a moment, my boy,” said Mrs. Machen, 
opening the pantry door where Jake was cleaning 
his table silver. “Jake, have you sold the mon- 
key?” 

“Not yet’m.” 

“ Where is he, Jake? ” 

“At Joe Gray’s in the alley’m.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad; run right otf and fetch him 
here; the man who gave him to your young master 
is here and wants to see him. It’s all right, 
Charley,” she said, “ the monkey will be here in 
a moment or two; meanwhile go out and sit with 
your friend, if he won’t come in.” 


MORE ABOUT THE MONKEY. 


191 


When the monkey was brought, it was quite 
touching to see his joy and demonstrations of affec- 
tion for his old friend; he actually threw his 
arms around his neck, and embraced him, nestling 
his elfish, puckered up face on the sailor’s gray, bushy 
beard, in the attitude of a long lost child just 
restored to the embraces of a grieving parent. 

“You were very kind,” observed Mrs. Machen, 
who came out to shake hands with Charley’s friend, 
“to give my boy a pet you valued so much yourself. 
He seems very fond of you.” 

“Yes, mum, he be that. I fotch him from 
Zanzibar when he was a baby, and raised him myself 
upon goat’s milk and duff; we had some goats aboard 
to furnish milk, mum, for the officers’ mess, and the 
Cap’n, he allowed me some every day for ‘ Bobby,’ so 
in that way I raised him, and dll ’long through, from 
the officers down to the cabin boys, he was the great- 
est favor-ite you ever did see. He’s eight years old 
now, and has been all round the world,” said the 
sailor, with evident pride, while he smoothed the crea- 
ture’s back, “but you see, mum, ’bout a year ago I 
had a sick turn and thought I was logged for Davy 
Jones, so I let a lady, that had been a coaxing me for 
more’n a year to sell him to her, have him ayt last; 
but her servants, they was keerless like, and used to 
let him loose in the cellar after they began to use the 
furnace that winter; so you see, mum, he’s that 
smart, that after watching them doing all they had 
to do with kindling the fire, and so forth, he tried 
his hand, and raked red hot coals all round in the 
cellar, and they would ha’ been burnt up certain, if 
the lady — she was a single lady, mum, and you know 


192 


TOM-B&Y. 


sich is mighty perticular — hadn’t sniffed the planks 
bnrnin’. She sent him back to me and a’ most cried 
herself sick when I told her yesterday I had given 
him away.” 

“ Do you think the lady would like to have him 
back?” asked Mrs. Machen. 

“Like, mum! she’d give a hundred dollars to have 
him back, she’s so lonesome like, for you know, 
mum, she’s got no children nor nuthin’. She ’minds 
me, poor soul, of a bird that’s been driv out to sea 
in a storm, when he perches in a ship’s riggin’.” 

“ I am very glad to hear that this lady wants the 
monkey back, for, do you know, we are all afraid of 
him; he has frightened some of my family almost 
into fits, scratched and bit one of them severely, 
and kept the whole house in confusion yesterday 
from the time he came, until we put him in charge 
of one of our servants. So, if you won’t be hurt,” 
Mrs. Machen said, in her kind, gracious way, “if 
you won’t be hurt by our not keeping him, the lady 
can have him again.” 

“Laws, no, mum; you know I had to give him 
the f cat ’ two or three times when I was raising him, 
and he always knowed after that, he had to behave 
himself or be piped up for punishment. I’m 
’shamed of you for cuttin’ up so, ‘ Bobby,’ it’s a 
disgrace to your bringin’ up,” said the salt, holding 
the monkey out by both arms, face to face with 
himself, and if you believe me, Bobby made a low, 
inarticulate chatting that sounded as if he were 
talking and crying at the same time, and buried his 
face in his friend’s bosom. — “You see, mum, he’s 
uncommon smart, Bobby is, and I reckon he felt 


MORE ABOUT THE MONKEY. 


193 


strange and wanted to get back to his old quarters, 
cos in general he’s a well-conducted fellow. I’m 
sorry, though, mum, that he behaved so much like 
a wild Congo, and if he only could talk, I’d make 
him beg your pardon. I’ll take him to the lady, if 
you say so, mum, she’ll be awful glad to get him 
back. By’r leave and Master Charley’s, I’ll go now,” 
said the old tar, rising. 

“You must not go before Charley gets you a 
glass of w r ine and some cake,” said Mrs. Machen, 
who shook hands with him and went back to the 
dining-room to send out the cake and wine. The 
sailor hated wine! he was used to stronger stuff, and 
thought it not only women’s drink, but sickening; 
he was too police however to say so, and gulped it 
down, wishing good health and a prosper ousvoyage 
to his young friend. The big hunk of pound cake 
he stowed away in the pocket of his pea-jacket, 
and when he got out of the sight of the house broke 
off a piece of it for Bob, which was eagerly and 
greedily devoured. He stuffed a great quid of to- 
bacco in his own mouth with infinite relish and said 
to himself with a chuckle, Such stuff’s only fit for 
lubbers and monkeys, but for an old salt like me, a 
stiff grog and duff’s the best relish.” 

I may as well tell you the end of the monkey here. 
The climate did not agree with him, and he died the 
following winter from the effects of a violent cold. 
The doctor that attended him got permission to 
open his body before he was buried, and found that 
he had died of regular tubercular consumption. 
His afflicted mistress had him dressed in a fine white 
flannel shroud, and laid in a pretty rosewood coffin, 


194 


TOM-BOY. 


with a silver plate on top, on which was engraved 
the following inscription: 

“BOBBY.” 

“ I never nursed a wild gazelle 

To glad me with his soft bright eye, 

But when he came to know me well, 

And love me, he was sure to die.” 

And Bobby was laid away in a nook of the family 
vault. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


One day Mr. Maclien, who had been sauntering 
about the garden to enjoy his after-dinner smoke, 
tossed the stump of his cigar away and joined his 
boys under the old cherry-tree where they were all 
grouped together on the grass that covered the 
mound around it like a growth of soft, velvety 
moss. 

Dave and Tom were lying sprawled upon their 
backs, their hands under their heads, their eyes fixed 
on nothing particular, and only speaking to each 
other at intervals, images, both of them, of blissful 
laziness; while Charley with his navy-cap pushed 
back from his forehead, was so intent in shaping 
a piece of tortoise-shell to some desired end that re- 
quired careful workmanship . and delicate manip- 
ulation, that he did not see his father until after he 
spoke and took his seat beside him. 

“ Yes, sir, it is a lovely afternoon,” he said, startled 
from his brown study; then he immediately slipped 
his pen-knife and the scrap of tortoise-shell into his 
pocket. 

“You two fellows seem to be enjoying your- 
selves!” observed Mr. Machen. 

“Yes; sir, the reward of virtue is sweet,” answered 
Tom, gravely. 

“ May I inquire what signal act of virtue it is that 


196 


TOM-BOY. 


entitles you to the repose of a Sybarite ? " asked his 
father, falling into the lad's humor. 

“ Whew! Excuse me, father! " replied Tom, raising 
himself to a sitting posture, “ I meant yes, certainly, 
sir. The fact is Dave and I picked up an old blind 
darkey that we met wailing and lamenting in the 
street about his dog that some young wharf -spartan 
— ahem, that's classic — stole. Then Dave and I, 
without thinking of consequences, pitched in, and 
told him w T e'd take him home if he'd tell us where 
abouts he lived. He said he lived by the canal not 
‘fur off', but a darkey's ideas of ‘fur' are wild and 
we didn't get to his house till we'd gone past the 
‘ Locks ' above the Little Falls, at least five miles off, 
if it's an inch; so, going and coming we had a tramp 
of at least ten miles — even our dinner, sir, with 
apple dumplings and wine-sauce, didn't rest us." 

"I offered to rub 'em down with a soft brick, 
they seemed to be so nearly foundered," said 
Charley, laughing, “ but they were too far gone for 
such active measures, poor little dears! " 

“Think of us the first time you're seasick," 
retorted Tom. 

“ Or, when you have to climb 'way up to that thing 
that Tom Spar calls maintruck." 

“Ow! You've got me now!" cried Charley, with 
a good-natured grin. 

“Never mind, boys, you'll be bravely over your 
tramp by to-morrow morning; then you'll enjoy the 
thought of having performed a kind action," said 
Mr. Machen. 

“ Hope we shall, sir, but next time a good action 
comes in my way I'm bound to find out how many 


TOM-BOY. 


19? 


miles it’s going to take me foot-a-back. I don’t like 
tramping ten miles on a stretch/’ answered Tom. 

“ The poor old fellow was very thankful when he 
did get safe home/’ said Dave. 

“But how did you find it?” asked Charley; “and 
he was blind, you say! ” 

“’Deed he was, Charley, as blind as a mole, for 
he’d like to have gone into the Canal two or three 
times, only we kept hold of his arm — least Tom did; 
and whenever we asked him where his house was, 
he’d say: ‘You keep ’long de line of de Canawl, 
Massa/ and we did, till we saw a woman sitting at 
the door of a little old log house, and she hollered and 
asked him what was the matter, and where the dog 
was. That was his wife, father, and she gave us a 
drink of cool water and some wild grapes,” said 
Dave. 

“And turkey-gobbler,” added Tom, “don’t leave 
that out.” 

“ That’s nothing; it was only the old turkey- 
gobbler, father, that flew out at me and scared me 
half to death the minute we got in the gate; he 
bruised my arm too with his wing. Whew, can’t 
they hit hard, though! ” 

“Scars got in a good cause are honorable, my 
boy,” said Mr. Machen, rubbing his hand over 
Dave’s head, frizzing up his tawny hair until it was 
a mass of tangles. 

It was indeed a lovely afternoon. The September 
sun, now behind a belt of tall trees, slanted golden 
rays through the quivering leaves; hundreds of yellow 
butterflies flashed and flickered here and there like 
winged jewels; there was a low hum of bees blending 


198 


TOM-BOT. 


with the noisy twittering of swallows as they darted 
about like swift arrows, intent on securing their 
prey; and now and then a brilliant gush of bravura 
notes, clear trills, and dashes of low, delicious trem- 
ulo from a mocking bird hid somewhere near by 
amongst the leaves, enchanted the ear, while the 
bitter sweet aroma of the chrysanthemums now in 
their glory filled the air with fragrance. 

Charley’s ship, the “ Erie,” was fitting out for sea 
at Norfolk, and he had received orders to join her in 
a month from date, and as they all sat there together 
under the tree, they naturally fell to talking about 
his going away and the strange sights he would see 
in China where it was supposed the “Erie ” would go. 

It was to be a three years’ cruise, and although the 
boys did not in the least let on how badly they felt 
at the idea of this long separation, their hearts were 
full of it, sleeping and waking, and out of the ful- 
ness of their hearts, their mouths frequently spoke, 
but generally in a chaffering way, for fear of be- 
traying themselves. 

There was no Naval Academy then; when a lad 
entered the service he at once began his career 
on ship-board, studying mathematics, navigation 
and all else essential to his profession, under compe- 
tent teachers appointed by the government; and 
best of all, getting a thorough acquaintance with 
practical seamanship on the very element his skill 
was destined at some future day to command. 
There was no amphibious training for the “boys 
in blue ” in those old times, and if they did not 
graduate into full fledged middies with all the 
social accomplishments of carpet knights, they knew 


TOM-BOY. 


m 

their business, as the noble Farragut, the brave 
Porter and others who studied their profession on 
ship-board on long cruises, proved in the “late 
unpleasantness ” between the North and South. 

But this is a digression and I will only add that as 
army officers whose career is properly on the land 
are educated and trained at West Point, in all that 
appertains to their profession, and learn the science 
of arms on the soil they are expected to defend; it 
would he wiser for all practical purposes to abolish 
the Naval Academy and give our young sailor lads a 
fair chance for their future, by having them educated 
on the high seas, make regular ‘ salts ’ of them, and 
let them know how to manage the ropes as v^ell as 
any jack-tar of the crew. 

“ I expect/’ replied Dave, with a shy laugh, “ that 
when you come back you’ll have a great bushy beard 
like Tom Spar’s.” 

“Or a pig-tail hanging down his back, ” added 
Tom. 

“I intend to he a good sailor if the stars fall. I 
know I shall like it, and I’m not going to stop 
at being a midshipman,” said Charley, full of the 
consciousness of high resolve. “What are you 
going to be, Tom?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Tom, lazily, “I 
think I’ll grow and see if a lawyer won’t sprout out 
of my head one of these days.” 

“ You’ll be the great man of the family beyond 
doubt; but if you ever do get to be a lawyer, I hope 
you’ll never, have a case against me,” observed 
Charley. 

“Why?” 


TOM-BOY. 


200 


“You’d be sure to badger my witnesses into 
fits, consequently I should lose it.” Mr. Maclien 
laughed, but said nothing; it always amused him to 
hear the boys talking together, and he made it a 
rule never to impose any restraint upon their free 
expression of opinion, but to be on the watch also 
to correct erroneous ideas, and argue with them if 
appealed to. “What are you going to be, Dave?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know; I’d like to be a great 
man, fact is I’d like to be president,” Dave answered, 
with a lazy little laugh as he rolled over and scram- 
bled up, and leaned over his father’s shoulder. 

“Boys, it is very evident that you all aspire to 
to make a figure in the world; it is right to aim 
high and to keep your aim steadily in view. But 
there are two ways of making a figure in the world 
and gaining celebrity — one is by fair means, one by 
foul. To be a truly great man, one must be a truly 
good man — to be a truly good man, one must fully 
understand the aim and end of his creation, then in 
God’s name steer his course by Divine law,” said 
Mr. Machen, gravely. 

The boys had never heard their father talk so be- 
fore, and it at once arrested their attention, and 
struck them with impressive force. They remem- 
bered that he had been a great deal with Father 
Grayson for the last three months, and that Father 
Grayson and himself had had many and long confer- 
ences in the library, looking over books together, 
and comparing notes, as they had occasionally seen 
when they were passing through the hall, or by the 
open window: but knowing that their father was 
devoted to literature and that the good clergyman was 


TOM-BOY. 


201 


a learned man, they paid no attention to the matter 
further than being delighted when he was sometimes 
induced to remain to tea; or was kind enough to 
come out in the grounds to have a chat and laugh 
with them. Now hearing their father speak in this 
serious manner, their quick wits put that and this 
together, and it prepared them somewhat for the 
result. 

“ Yes, sir; I believe that’s so,” Charley said, in re- 
ply to his father; he being the eldest, Tom and 
Dave naturally waited for him to speak, especially 
as they didn’t in the least know what to say. 

. “I am very glad of this opportunity to speak to 
you, my lads — the more so as Charley is going to 
leave us soon — on a very important subject. I’m 
not going to preach to or lecture you, though I 
want you to listen very thoughtfully to what I am 
going to say. You have grown up, my boys, like 
young pagans, without baptism or religious teaching 
of any sort, simply because your dear mother and I, 
being without any fixed ideas or principles of faith 
ourselves were incapable of instilling other than 
precepts of the natural law into your minds. But, 
a few months ago, certain circumstances induced us 
both to turn our thoughts very earnestly to religion, 
and Providence so ordered it that we made the 
acquaintance of Father Grayson and through his 
instructions and by the grace of God, we have fully 
determined to become members of the Catholic 
Church. It is our deep regret, for our children’s sake, 
that this has been so long deferred, as our delay has 
up to the present time deprived you of the inestimable 
advantages of a religious education. But so far as lies 


202 


TOM-BOY . 


in my power, I must, using my parental influence, 
do the best I can to repair the unfortunate results 
of accidents that have kept me so long without God 
and Christ in the world. I will explain. I was 
born of Catholic parents, who both died in my early 
childhood, leaving me to the care of kind, easy-go- 
ing relations who had no higher aims in life than 
to enjoy themselves feasting, hunting, dancing and 
liorse-racing. It was as if their motto was: ‘Let us 
eat, drink and be merry, for to-morrow we die/ ex- 
cept that I don't believe they ever gave a thought to 
death in a serious way. The result was that I grew 
up scarcely realizing there was a God who would one 
day demand an account of my time and wasted op- 
portunities, and in perfect ignorance of the faith in 
which I had a birthright of baptism. Your dear, 
kind mother’s parents were Orthodox Quakers, hence 
she was never baptized, and her marriage with me 
separated her by their rules from her sect; but she 
has gone with me, in fact she took the initiative in 
what we are about doing, and now it is our desire 
that our children should receive baptism on the 
same day she does, which will be two weeks hence. 
Meanwhile I wish you to receive some religious in- 
structions from Father Grayson, under whose care I 
shall place you, and hope that you will acquiesce 
without any difficulty.” 

Mr. Machen did not remind his boys that being 
underage he could command their obedience in this 
particular; it would have savored of a threat; he pre- 
ferred affording them the opportunity of more volun- 
tary action, and felt some anxiety — only momentary 
however — as to the issue. Charley spoke first. 


TOM-BOY. 


203 


“ All right, sir,” he said, “I’ve always looked up 
to you, father, and tried to be like you as much as a 
hoy can be like a man; and I have a great respect 
for Father Grayson, but you know I am not much 
on religion, though I am very willing to do as you 
say; fact is, I don’t know anything about it, but I 
can learn, sir, that is — ” 

“What?” asked Mr. Machen, as Charley suddenly 
stopped and looked down, while his face flushed 
crimson. 

“ I was going to say, sir,” he said, lifting his 
head and looking his father frankly in the face, “ I 
am willing to learn if it won’t go to make a solemn, 
sour muff of me; I couldn’t stand that.” 

“’Are Father Grayson and Isabel solemn, sour 
muffs, Charley? ” 

“No, sir, that they’re not; I didn’t think of them. 
I’ll be glad to hear whatever Father Grayson has to 
say, father, for I think he’s the best and kindliest 
preacher I ever knew ! ” 

“ I don’t object to being baptized, father, what- 
ever that is, but I want to be left to judge for my- 
self somewhat,” answered Tom. 

“Of course, after examining the subject under 
Father Grayson’s instruction. Gay has already 
been to see him several times with Isabel, and asked 
your mother’s and my permission a week ago to 
become a Catholic before she had the faintest 
idea of our intentions. What have you to say, 
Dave? ” 

“I’ll do what the rest do, sir; I don’t want to be 
left out like a black sheep,” said Dave, with a trust- 
ing smile, as he lifted his head from his father’s 


204 


TOM-BOY. 


shoulder, and tossed back his golden hair from his 
forehead. 

“You have made me very happy, my lads. I 
feel as if the fault of my long neglect may be more 
easily repaired than I had reason to hope for. Isa- 
bel Forsyth's coming brought blessings to us, for it 
was through her unobtrusive and pious example that 
your mother and I, already seriously urged for the 
sake of our children, to embrace some form of reli- 
gion, were first induced to consider what the Catho- 
lic Church believed and taught." 

“ I have noticed one thing about Isabel, father, 
nothing ever stopped her from going to church; 
Tanglebrake, driving, rowing, dancing or anything 
else; if she could get to church and go afterwards, 
well and good; but if she couldn't then she stayed 
home, and was just as happy. I often wondered to 
myself, what made her so good and patient and so 
modest too, for none of us ever heard her talking 
religion," said Tom. 

“But if you asked her any questions about her 
religion she could answer you right off. I did once, 
when mother got me to take an umbrella to her, it 
having come on to rain while she was at church, 
and as I had to wait, I thought I'd step in and see 
what was going on. It looked very solemn and oeau- 
tiful too, in there; the altar was lit up with more 
candles than I could count; some of them were very 
tall and large, others short, and there were hundreds 
of flowers in vases, and garlands fixed everywhere 
between the lights. Father Grayson had on a white 
spangled cloak of some sort, and was swinging a cu- 
rious silver urn backwards and forwards, out of 


TOM-BOY. 


205 


which came great clouds of sweet-smelling smoke — 
Isabel called it incense — that nearly filled the 
church. There was no singing, but the organ was 
playing a solemn kind of air very soft and slow— it 
seemed to go right to my heart — and everybody was 
kneeling down with such devout countenances, even 
the little children, that they didn't seem to be 
thinking of anything but praying. And, look here, 
father, our teacher told us one day, in our history 
class, that none but ignorant people believed in the 
Catholic religion, but the first people I saw there 
that evening were Chief Justice. Taney, Senator 
Hardy and that great traveller I heard you tell 
mother was a savant — Mr. Mowbry — all kneeling 
and praying just the same as the canal-laborers, and 
the colored folk also around them. That staggered 
me some, I tell you. But I couldn't make out what 
they were having such high doings for on a week 
day until Isabel told me on the way home that it 
was Corpus Christi, a great festival, she said, that 
lasted eight days in honor of — I declare I don't re- 
member exactly, but it was something about the in- 
stitution of — of — " 

“ Of the Holy Eucharist," said Mr. Machen. 

“Yes, sir, that was it ; and she told me what it 
meant, but I didn't pay much attention, so forgot.” 

“ The Catholic religion, my son, is a sealed book 
to those outside of the Church ; a stumbling-block 
to 3ome, to others fooolishness because of their own 
ignorance of what it believes and teaches. They 
only see what they don't understand, the symbols- 
and shadow of substance, and think that it all, while 
ignorance and prejudice combine to make it almost 


206 


TOM-BOY. 


as inaccessible to them as to the Arctic explorer are 
those lovely regions which are said to lie in verdure 
and brightness beyond the ice barriers of the pole. 
But come, suppose we walk up and pay Father 
Grayson a short visit ; he hasn’t heard yet about 
1 your orders, Charley.” 

Nothing could have pleased the boys more than 
this proposal. Dave and Tom forgot their ten mile 
tramp, and sprang to their feet ready to start, and 
the next minute they were all on their way. 

The door was opened by Uncle Ben, an old darkey 
whose wool was white, who had been living so long 
at the Rectory that he imagined himself to be a sort 
of vicar-general. He had very priestly manners, 
took snuff, and spoke of Father Grayson as “ we,” 
which gave him great importance with a certain 
class of people who came to the Rectory on business 
spiritual and temporal. 

“ We’s been havin’ a Retreat, sir, for some of the 
college boys and it’s jest over — won’t you an’ the 
young gentlemen walk in ? ” he answered to Mr. 
Machen’s inquiry if Father Grayson was at home. 

“ No, give my compliments to Father Grayson ; 
I won’t interrupt him now, but will call again.” 

“ We don’t like visitors- to go ’way in that-a-way, 
please to walk in ; Father Grayson’s just out here in 
the garden ’ long with the boys, talkin’ and larfin,” 
said Uncle Ben, throwing open the door at the other 
end of the hall which led into the garden through 
which came the sound of happy young voices. 

There they were sure enough, about twenty boys 
pressing around Father Grayson as he stood in the 
midst of them, distributing pictures out of a small 


TOM-BOY. 


207 


paper box that he held in his hand. A happier, 
more cheeeful group cannot he imagined — their 
bright faces all turned towards him — as, parrying 
their demands with pleasant words, laughing with, 
and answering them, the good clergyman seemed to 
renew his youth in theirs, while he encouraged their 
innocent cheerfulness. 

“ They don't look like solemn, sour muffs, Char- 
ley ! " observed Mr. Machen, as they stood a moment 
on the porch contemplating the scene. 

“No, sir, that they don't. They're a jolly look- 
ing lot, aren't they ? " 

At this moment Father Grayson caught sight of 
his visitors, and lifting his bomiet-carre with simple 
grace, he broke through the circle of boys, and wel- 
comed Mr. Machen with friendly clasp and greeting, 
shook hands with the boys and told them he was 
very glad to see them. 

“ Got your sailing orders yet, Charley ? " 

“Yes, sir, came yesterday. There's a report that 
we're going to China," answered Charley, with just 
the least air of importance. 

“ Among the celestials, eh ? You'll begin y.our 
wanderings in foreign lands with the oldest civiliza- 
tion of the world ; it will be like learning a new 
alphabet on a grand scale. But come, boys, let me 
introduce you to the youngsters out there ; they 
have just finished an eight day Retreat and are con- 
sequently very amiable and agreeable." 

“A what, sir?" asked Charley, who had been 
wondering all along what in the world old Ben 
meant by a Retreat. 

“ Well ! a Retreat means eight days’ retirement 


208 


TOM-BOY. 


from all worldly occupation for prayer and other 
religious exercises ; this one was for the boys of my 
congregation who were preparing for their first Com- 
munion, which they were so happy as to make this 
morning which is the holy festival of the Nativity of 
the Virgin Mother of Jesus.” Here Father Grayson 
lifted his bonnet-carre an instant in reverence to the 
holy name, a thing that Charley Machen did not 
fail to notice. 

“ Excuse my. curiosity. Father Grayson, but will 
you please tell me what is done in a Retreat ?” 

“Certainly, my boy. We pray a great deal, con- 
fess our sins, make good resolutions, hear, and take 
to heart sermons that are preached for the good of 
our souls, and endeavor to learn how to render relig- 
ion a part of our daily life. Take it altogether a 
Retreat means business in the affair of our salvation, 
and a great deal of it, but to bear the right kind of 
fruit, it must be done very earnestly, and with one 
only aim. Those boys there, have come out of 
their Retreat purified and strengthened, that’s the 
reason they’re so cheerful and happy ; I only wish 
they might remain without blemish, but they’ve got 
their battle to fight in the world and can’t escape 
the moil and soil of it altogether, although the 
graces they have gained in the Retreat will make 
them stronger to resist evil. Come and get 
acquainted with them, while your father and I have 
a talk here on the porch.” 

“ Here, boys ; here are some young friends of 
mine, Midshipman Charley Machen, and Tom and 
Have, his brothers, to whom I want to introduce 
you.” 


TOM-BOY. 


209 


Then Father Grayson named the lads who came 
forward to speak to the strangers, and went back to 
Mr. Machen. 

The Machen boys were a little stiff at first, as they 
did not know exactly what to say to new acquaint- 
ances so pious as these and felt a little curious to 
know what these lads, who had been praying and 
being good so long, would talk about. They expected 
to be invited into the church, of course, and hear 
nothing but Retreat, and religious talk. Not a bit of 
it. The first thing they began about was the great 
base-ball game that was to come off at an early day 
between champion players ; they told about the 
boating races of the college boys ; of last winter's 
skating, of their fishing excursions on holidays ; of 
their swimming exploits, and many other things that 
boys always delight in. But although they were 
enthusiastic and full of the spirit and fun of their 
years, and delighted in talking over their sports, 
they were neither boisterous, slangy, rude nor 
profane ; their young lips were not stained with 
surreptitious chews of tobacco, nor their breaths 
tainted with cigar smoke or dirty drinks ; there 
was no hard, wicked look in their bright eyes, betray- 
ing a knowledge of things unlawful to their youth 
and innocence; the church, that tenderest of all 
mothers, had guarded them well from the profana- 
tions of vices which in this our age ruin so many 
young lives, and make boys not yet out of their 
teens, old in wickedness. The Machen lads, on the 
“qui vive 99 to see what manner of beings religious 
boys might be, found their new acquaintances so 
agreeable and so merry in their harmless chaff with 


m 


TOM-BOY. 


each other, that they were scarcely conscious of the 
absence of that which youngsters are too apt to 
think gives a spice and mannishness to their conver- 
sation, in their words and manner, until afterwards 
when they talked the matter over, and compared 
them with a number of their own schoolmates. 

Charley, Tom and Dave had each been appropriated 
by several boys, who divided into groups and were 
deep in discussions of everything precious to boy-life, 
when Mr. Machen called to them that it was time 
to go. 

With much hand-shaking and mutual promises to 
meet again, they parted regretfully from their 
new friends and then joined their father and Father 
Grayson on the porch. 

“Fm glad to hear, my dear children, that you 
are coming up to have some talk with me,” said the 
good clergyman. 

“Yes, sir,” they answered, “ when shall we 
come? ” 

“Come to-morrow afternoon about five o’clock. 
After our conference I want to take you over to the 
college to look at the paper boats the boys there 
have just bought for their river races.” 

The boys’ eyes glistened with delight: Paper 
boats for river-racing! whoever heard of such a thing 
before? It was very evident that Father Grayson had 
no idea of making them “solemn and muffy.” That 

is, they felt without knowing exactly how to express 

it, that Father Grayson’s religion was not a cold, 
cruel, straight-laced, sour one, that repressed all the 
joyous instincts of nature, and dwarfed to deformity 
that gladsomeness of youth which, in its innocence. 


TOM-BOY . 


211 


is as a prayer and thank-offering to God. And that 
night, after they went up to bed, they put their 
heads together, and after a council of war, expressed 
their perfect willingness to be guided by so good a 
man as Father Grayson. 

The next evening they with the two girls were in 
the drawing-room. Mr. and Mrs.Machen were visit- 
ing some friends, and the young folks who had taken 
tea there, had left. Isabel was at the piano; Char- 
ley was busy polishing a tortoise-shell ring with two 
hearts on it, that he had succeeded, after several 
failures, in constructing; Gay and Dave were play- 
ing dominoes, while Tom circulated generally, mak- 
ing smart satirical speeches, “badgering like a 
lawyer” Charley called it, but making them laugh 
all the same. They had talked about the paper boats 
they saw, and the curiosities they were shown at the 
College Museum until the subjects were exhausted, 
and they rather felt as if they didn't know what to 
do with themselves. Gay unexpectedly came to 
their relief, by pushing back the dominoes, having 
let Dave win the game, and saying: 

“I have got something to tell you, boys.” 

“What — another monkey?” 

“Look in the glass, Tom, what do we want with 
another?” answered the irrepressible. The laugh 
was against Tom, for without thinking he deliber- 
ately turned and looked at himself in the glass before 
Gay completed her sentence. 

“I owe you one, Tom-boy! But come, what's 
your news? ” 

“I am going to be a Catholic like Isabel,” she 
said, bravely, “but that is not all; mamma is too, 


212 


TOM-BOY. 


and it came of heaving Isabel say her catechism 
every day, she told me so herself.” 

“That's good news so far as it goes, Tom-boy, 
but mother and Isabel and yon aren't going to have 
it all to yourself. We too, I mean us boys, are to 
be baptized at. the same time mother and you are,” 
said Charley, rubbing away at his ring. 

“ Oh, I am so glad, so happy! '' exclaimed Isabel, 
whose beautiful brown eyes were absolutely luminous 
with joy. “I have been hoping, and saying the 
Rosary over and over for this ever since I came here, 
for I love you all dearly.” This was quite an out- 
burst for quiet Isabel, the spontaneous overflow of 
her glad heart. Gay threw her arms around her 
and kissed her, and if anybody had looked close, 
they would have seen tears on their cheeks. 

“ Don't count too much on me, Bel. I've got to 
find out all the ins and outs of things before I de- 
cide; I don't like confession, and praying to saints 
and people that have been dead a thousand years. 
It'll all have to be cleared up to my satisfaction be- 
fore I give in. I'm going to be baptized, though, 
with the rest, for a beginning. But I've got some 
news to tell, too,” said Tom, strutting up and down 
with his hands in his pockets. 

Then they gathered around him, clamoring to hear 
what he might have to tell, but not until he had 
roused their curiosity up to the highest pitch, did he 
deign to enlighten* them. 

“Keep it to yourself and fatten on it,” said Gay, 
quite out of patience. “Come, Isabel, play that 
rondo again.” 

“That's right, girls, we don't care for more news 


TOM-BOY. 


213 


to-night,” said Charley, slipping the ring off the 
smooth round stick on which he had shaped it, then 
holding it up against the light to see if there were 
crack or flaw in it. 

“Who's that for, Charley?” asked Davy; hut got 
no answer, unless the blush that rose to his brother's 
face was one. 

“Did you all know,” said Tom, who was perishing 
to tell his secret, and afraid that they were in ear- 
nest about not caring to hear it, “that father 
had entered Dave and I at the Catholic Col- 
lege?” 

“No; when? how did you know it? When did he 
tell you?” burst from them all. 

“ He told me just before he and mother went out. 
You know I went to the Post Office this morning, 
and carried father's letters in the library to him. 
He told me then. And there's more to tell yet, and 
you may cock your ears, for it's something great! 
Father says we are all going to Norfolk to see Char- 
ley off!” 

“That is glorious news!” exclaimed Charley, 
springing up and twirling Gay around in an im- 
promptu dance. “Now, Isabel, come, it's your 
turn; Gay, play a waltz.” Charley had flung Gay 
off, and seized Isabel's baud to begin, but she drew 
back, and said pleasantly: “I don't d<5 those sort of 
dances, Charles.” 

“Do they make you dizzy?” 

“Yes, they make me dizzy, but that's not the 
reason, Charley.” 

“ What is the reason?” 

“Father Grayson says they're not proper,” she an- 


214 


TOM-BOY. 


swered in a low voice, “and I once heard my own 
papa say the same thing.” 

The two were standing a little apart — Charley still 
holding the hand he had taken, expecting her to 
waltz with him, and before she knew what he was 
doing, he had slipped the tortoise-shell ring upon 
her finger. 

“ It's no harm to wear that, anyhow. I made it 
for you, Isabel, and want you to wear it for my sake,” 
said Charley, while Gray went on playing the waltz 
she had begun, with a vim that had drowned his 
words to all except the ears for which they were in- 
tended. 

“ Thank you, Charley, I will wear it as you wish,” 
Isabel answered, while a soft flush crept into her 
cheeks; then she went to the piano and stood by 
Gay, her right hand folded over her left in a way 
which prevented the ring being noticed. When 
she got up into her room, she took a small jewel-case 
of her mother’s from her trunk, and selecting a 
plain carved gold ring, she slipped it on her finger 
over the other and was delighted to find that it 
completely covered it, hearts and all. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


BITTER-SWEET. 

“I can’t bear to think of Charley’s going away 
so far. It’s mighty fine for him, to be sure, because 
he likes it, at least he thinks he does, since that 
horrid old Tom Spar has been filling his head with 
all sorts of things about the sea. I doubt if we shall 
be able to understand him when he comes home — if 
he ever does — his talk will be all about jibs and 
mains’ls, beams, and aloft and abaft, and leeward, 
and windward — Pshaw! I wish he’d never seen Tom 
Spar,” exclaimed Gay one morning, as with a heated, 
worried countenance she burst into Isabel’s room, 
who was busy over a mysterious looking tiling made 
of bronze morocco, scarlet cloth, brown ribbon and 
carded wool that she was stitching together. 
“ Don’t you wish so, Isabel? ” asked Tom-boy, throw- 
ing herself on a cushion at Isabel’s feet. 

“ Wish Charley had never seen Tom Spar?” 

“Ko; how stupid! don’t you wish Charley wasn’t 
going off to the world’s end to get drowned?” 

“ Oh, Gay, how can you say such dreadful things? 
He’s not going away to get drowned I hope.” 

“ And maybe a shark will eat him, or a cuttle-fish 
reach up and pull him off the round-top some fine 
day when he’s sent up there to lookout; you heard 
they’ve got arms as long as the mast, full of suckers, 
and the minute they touch a fellow they’ve got him. 


216 


TOM-BOY . 


for the suckers hold him as tight as a vise, the 
dreadful old krakens! I was reading about them 
last night.” 

“What do they do then?” 

“ They go under with him and eat him at their 
leisure at the bottom of the sea.” 

“I don’t believe there are such monsters; there 
might have been once, just as there used to be giants 
and mastodons on the dry land; but if there should 
be, I don’t think a kraken will ever get near enough 
to Charley to hurt him,” answered Isabel, thought- 
fully. 

“Well if they don’t, a sea-lion or a whale might, 
for there’s nothing but a thin plank between him 
and the wide, wide ocean all filled with monsters; 
oh, my! ” 

“ Such a thing never happens. I would not worry 
myself, Gray, if I were you, about impossibilities,” 
said Isabel, to comfort her. 

“ How do you know they’re impossibilities? I tell 
you I’ve read of such things. What’s that you’re 
making, Isabel?” she asked, willing to change the 
subject. 

“I’m making a needle-book for Charley to take 
to sea with him.” 

“Star spangled banner! for what? Who ever 
heard of a boy wanting a needle-book? ” 

“I’ll tell you something about it,” said Isabel 
while a swift flush rose to her fair face. “Do you 
remember the evening Captain Burnet and his wife 
spent with mamma? Well! you know her son Harry 
is a midshipman and has been away off on the Pacific 
coast for a year; and I heard her telling mamma 


BITTER-SWEET. 


217 


that she had got a letter from him that day in which 
he begged her to make him a big needle-book and 
to stu.lt it lull of thiead, black and white, of sewing 
silk, needles, buttons, tape, and last of all a tailor’s 
thimble and a pair of scissors ; for all the buttons 
weie off his shirts, the strings were oft* his drawers, 
and his elbows were out, and as there was no seam- 
stress on board to mend up the fellows’ elothes, they 
had to do it themselves.” 

“How funny! how I should like to see Charley 
trying to sew on a button. Does he know you are 
making that for him?” inquired Gay, highly 
amused. 

“ No, and I don’t want him to know; I’m going 
to slip it into his box and say nothing about it.” 

“ Then, my child, he’ll go in rags, for not knowing 
that he’s the owner of such a treasure, he’ll never 
think of rooting up his box for it,” said Gay, nod- 
ding her head and making herself look so much like 
Mammy Dozier that Isabel could not help laughing. 

“ That’s true. I did not think of it. I’d better 
give it to him then and tell him what it’s for,” she 
answered, after thinking it over a minute. 

“That’ll be more serviceable anyhow. But let 
us hear more about Harry Burnet’s letter; what else 
did his mbther say?” 

“ She had the letter with her, and read parts of 
it out to mamma. I’ll tell you what I remember. 
He said it was a funny sight of a fine day, when 
all the ship’s work was over, to go to the forecastle 
and see the sailors sitting tailor-like all over the deck, 
some of them patching up their old clothes, some of 
them making new ones, some of them cutting out 


218 


TOM-BOY. 


new suits, not with scissors, but with a jack-knife, 
by lines they chalk on the cloth from a paper 
pattern that they prize very highly; some of them 
sewing white braid on their great blue shirt collars, 
and most of them spinning yarns without end.” 

“ The sea must sharpen people’s wits, and make 
’em awfully smart if they are able to spin and sew at 
the same time. What sort of yarn do they spin. I’d 
like to know? ” asked Gay, smelling a rat. 

“ That’s the way they call telling stories; they 
call a story a yarn,” replied Isabel. “I heard Mrs. 
Burnet tell mamma so. Then he said that every- 
body on shipboard, from the Captain down to the 
powder monkeys, had to know how to sew on buttons 
and mend rents, so I thought the best keepsake I 
could give Charley would be a needle-book, or house- 
wife as some folks call them.” 

“Yes, it was a bright thought; but oh, Isabel! 
I’m so sorry he’s going away, aren’t you ? ” 

“ Yes, I’m sorry. But you must know he’s chosen 
the Navy for his profession, and if he wants to rise 
in it, he must be at sea a great deal.” 

“ The sea was made for fishes, and the dryland 
for men. I don’t want my brother to go to sea! ’ ex- 
claimed Gay, breaking down, and weeping bitterly 
with her head on Isabel’s lap. 

“Don’t do so, dear,” said Isabel, throwing aside 
her work, and leaning over Gay, smoothed back her 
hair, as she kissed her forehead. 

She had never seen Gay shed tears before, for she 
was such a high spirited little thing, that if she ever 
had trouble enough to cause tears, she took good 
care that no one should witness them; so now her 


BITTER-S WEET. 


219 


deep emotion ton died Isabel, and thus moved all 
her sympathies. “ Just think of the pleasant letters 
that he’ll send home, and how glad you’ll be to see 
him when he conies back; why, it will be equal to 
the ‘Arabian Nights.’ Entertainment’ to hear him 
tell of all the wonderful things he’ll see in the far 
off lands he’s going to; and we shall be proud of him 
too, for Charley’s going to win his way. Then you 
must remember something else besides,” — the soft, 
tapering hand still smoothing the throbbing temples 
— “ you must remember that he wears a medal of our 
Blessed Lady and is therefore under Her powerful 
protection; you know that one of Her beautiful 
names is ‘Star of the Sea’.” 

“ I know it. But let me cry my cry out, and then 
I’ll try to be brave about it. Don’t tell on me, 
Isabel.” 

“No, indeed I won’t. Don’t forget that there’s 
much to comfort you, though.” 

“ Yes, I know there is,” said Gay, raising up her 
tear stained face. “ That is a lovely name for the 
Blessed Virgin. "Star of the Sea’!' Oh, Isabel! 
it will be very sweet when he’s gone, to say to 
myself whenever I think of him: ‘Star of the Sea, 
lead my brother home in safety.’” The thought 
softened Gay’s sorrow and she sat there thinking 
silently, until her heart grew calm. Isabel resumed 
her work. She felt sadly, too, but her hopeful tem- 
perament, and the deep conviction of faith that 
animated her being, made her look upon the coming 
separation in a more cheerful spirit. 

The boys visited Father Grayson regularly every 
day. Charley and Dave accepted the faith revealed 


220 


TOM-BOY. 


to them with docility. Their minds were us virgin 
soil free from the weeds of contradictory and erro- 
neous doctrines; there was nothing therefore for them 
to unlearn, and the seed fell in goodly places, tak- 
ing firm root. 

Tom, like his incredulous namesake of old, was 
something doubting; he wanted to work out certain 
points of mysterious truths like a mathematical 
problem — Tom was great on mathematics; he, in 
his raw self-conceit, had an idea that Faith should 
subserve material reasoning, and was not at a loss in 
defending his arguments. But Father Grayson 
would let him go the 'length of his tether, then when 
he would stop, simply because he could go no further, 
the good priest would come down upon him, demol- 
ishing his points one by one by reasons and proofs 
couched in strong, plain language that he could 
neither misunderstand, answer, nor contradict. But 
the mischief was that though 

“ Convinced against his will 
He was of the same opinion still.” 

He was perfectly willing to be baptized; he even 
desired it, and without demur accepted what he 
called its symbolism. He knew that baptism would 
not bind him irrevocably to this new faith that his 
family had so readily received, but it would hold 
them united together by a more sacred than human 
bond, and he could not bear the thought of being a 
broken link in their little circle of love; but for all 
that he must be left free to choose for himself when 
it came to such a serious matter as religion. Tom 
was by nature analytical, and his aim being the Law, 


BITTER-SWEET. 


221 


it tended to nurture this peculiar mental quality in a 
way that confused and bewildered him, because his 
forces were coping with things not “ of earth earthy/’ 
but with the “substance of things hoped for/’ 
Father Grayson was much interested in him; he 
liked his honest frankness, and the firm ground he 
took about his principles, but he was more than 
hopeful of results; his long experience with the 
spiritual affairs of men, giving him good reason to 
be so. “ Tom's digging out the foundation of his 
house," said Father Grayson one night to Mr. 
Machen; “he'll dig pretty deep, and when he finds 
that ‘the rock is safe and solid, he'll build. Depend 
upon it, he'll come out all right, and when he does, 
his faith will be entire, without speck or flaw or 
doubt." 

“ He’s an odd fellow, but sterling in character," 
answered Mr. Machen, “ but the French revolution 
has drifted unsound, seducing philosophies to our 
shores, which deceive our youth already intoxicated 
with liberty and the so-called liberal opinions; 
which makes me naturally anxious about him." 

“Yes, there's trouble ahead for this grand coun- 
try from that very cause. Trifling with truth, 
nothing will be sacred in their eyes, in time; they 
will lose reverence for sacred things and ties, they 
will own no superior in heaven or on earth, I fear, 
spurn at faith and worship only reason and science. 
This is the tendency of the times, and when the 
incubation of this viper's egg is completed, woe and 
destruction will come upon us, false liberty will 
overthrow the true, and anarchy possess the land. 
But bless my soul! pardon me, Mr. Machen, for 


222 


TOM-BOY. 


keeping you standing here in this easterly wind to 
listen to my rhapsody. Have no fear for Tom, 
though; he's the object of much devout prayer, and 
you and I, who have faith in prayer, may look with 
certainty to the realization of our hopes for him.” 

“ I think so; good night. We shall be present at 
your first Mass in the morning.” 

“ At five o'clock? God bless you, good night, 
my friend.” 

And Mr. Machen turned his face homewards; 
Father Grayson closed his door, and went in to read 
his office. 

It was a lovely morning — the festival of the 
Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary, when Mr. and 
Mrs. Machen, with their children and Isabel, wended 
their way towards the church of St. Agnes, he to 
make his first communion, his wife and children to 
receive the waters of baptismal regeneration. The 
eastern sky, draped with rosy clouds, seemed to 
pulsate in the golden beams that were stealing up 
over the world’s rim, fringing them with brightness; 
a crisp, cool breeze brought in by the rising tide 
stirred the trees, and shook the dew from the 
autumn roses and richly tinted chrysanthemums 
which breathed forth indescribable fragrance; 
everything was in harmony with their hearts, that 
were advancing to a new life, vivified by the sun of 
righteousness so lately risen upon their way. A 
deep, calm content filled Mr. Machen's soul, and he 
now realized how incomplete his life had been 
through all these years, and how widely he had wan- 
dered astray from the chief good; he looked at his 
wife and daughter dressed and veiled in white for 


BITTER-SWEET. 


223 


the happy occasion; at his three fine lads, whose 
faces wore an expression of thoughtfulness befitting 
the solemn act they were going to participate in; at 
Isabel, who by God’s infinite mercy had brought this 
great blessing to his home; and at Mammy Dozier, 
whose big Irish heart was overflowing with joy that 
her long and patient prayers were at last answered; 
and his eyes grew dim with tears of thankfulness so 
that he turned a little aside, looking towards the 
riyer, to give them vent. Father Grayson met them 
at the church door, with two young acolytes bear- 
ing lighted wax candles; and having asked the usual 
questions of the ritual, he conducted them to the 
baptismal font, where the solemn ceremony was 
concluded. After this they went up to their pew 
near the Altar to offer thanks, while Father Gray- 
son returned to the Sacristy to robe himself 
for the celebration of the Holy sacrifice of the 
Mass. 

There were many devout persons in church, the 
usual early congregation, whose pious souls were 
gladdened by a sight of the new converts and their 
edifying devotion. 

The Altar was loaded with flowers. How fitting 
that the rarest, sweetest and fairest of earth’s gifts 
should be lavishly strewn in the pathway of the 
King; that rich ointments should be poured on his 
head while penitent tears bathe his feet. Give 
ti-thes to the Lord, not grudging the alabaster box, 
the precious spikenard, the gold, frankincense and 
myrrh, fine linen and cunning embroideries, and the 
costly workmanship in stone and marble; the pictures 
above price, and the lofty temples dedicated to His 


224 


TOM-BOY. 


service, “for He is the Lord, the earth is His and 
the fullness thereof.” 

Tom Machen had a deep and tender respect for 
his father and when he saw him kneel before the 
Altar and noted the profound devotion with which 
he received the Bread of Life, the sight reached his 
soul, and touched it more cogently than any argu- 
ment could have done. 

“It must be right and altogether true, for a man 
like my father to accept it as he does.” Father 
Grayson came out to them after Mass and gave to 
each one a certificate of baptism with a representa- 
tion of the Holy Rite beautifully engraved on it. To 
Mr. Machen he gave a first Communion picture 
with the day and date written underneath. It was 
a very happy day for them all, cheerful, bright and 
unclouded, their innocent mirth unsullied, their 
enjoyment heightened by the ever present thought 
of what had passed that sacramental morning. 
Father Grayson took tea with them all that evening 
and promised the boys to go to “ Tanglebrake ” with 
them the next day, as it was to be Charley’s last 
visit there previous to his departure. 

Mr. and Mrs. Machen, the girls and Father Gray- 
son, made up the party, the boys and Jake rowing. 
Arrived at the farm they had lunch, with fresh but- 
ter and cream and raspberries, in addition to sub- 
stantial viands to which every one did ample justice, 
for somehow the air at “Tanglebrake” sharpened 
their appetites past telling. Then the boys took 
possession of Father Grayson, “ they wanted him,” 
they said, “ all to themselves,” a polite intimation 
to the rest of the party that they were not expected 


BITTER-SWEET. 


225 


to come, so Gay took herself to the landing with a 
string and a piece of fat meat at the end of it, 
to amuse herself catching crabs. Mr. and Mrs. 
Machen remained, sitting on the shaded veranda, 
to have a quiet talk over the trip to Norfolk, and 
Isabel went out under the old catalpa tree, to gaze 
at the bright river running southward, and wonder 
how her home in the land of the orange groves and 
magnolias looked since it had been deserted. The 
yellow jessamine must by this time have covered 
her windows, and the “ pride of China ” and cape 
jessamine, be spreading above the roof with their 
purple blooms, and fluffy, rose-hued flowers. But 
how grass-grown the paths must be; how tangled 
the Banksian roses; how wild the “ Spanish dagger ” 
shooting up amidst the lovely tropical blossoms ! She 
almost heard the mocking birds pouring out their 
rich notes as they swung lightly on the pendulous 
vines; and felt the soft perfumed winds from the 
gulf, playing upon her cheek. She was roused from 
her pleasant dreams by a shout of laughter, and 
turning quickly, she saw Father Grayson, his soutane 
gathered up around him, running at full speed, 
pursued by a turkey-cock, whose wings were trail- 
ing, ready to strike, and whose long tuft of beard w T as 
flying back like a scalp-lock as he gobbled his war 
song, and gained upon the enemy, who had very inno- 
cently gone upon his reservation with no foul intent. 
But the boys rallied to the rescue and “ old Scratch,” 
as the plantation darkies called the turkey-cock, 
was driven back, his comb and wattles scarlet with 
rage, his wings clicking as he ran, like empty scab- 
bards; while he gobbled like an artesian w r ell strug» 


TOM-BOY. 


m 

gling for an exit. Soon his pride fell; he was so 
fiercely pursued, that dropping his warlike dignity, 
he gathered up his wings, dropped his tail-feathers, 
stretched out his neck and ran for his life amid the 
exulting shouts and laughter of the juveniles, while 
Mr. and Mrs. Machen, and Isabel, who had now 
joined Father Grayson, enjoyed with him a hearty 
laugh over the adventure. 

The boys had no idea however of releasing Father 
Grayson from his promise, so they led him off in 
triumph to examine their rabbit-hutch and its beau- 
tiful, shy inmates with their long, erect, white poin- 
ted .ears lined with pink, and their great round eyes 
as red as rubies staring up at their visitors, never 
winking once. 

“These fellows wink with their noses,” said Dave 
to Father Grayson. 

“So they do: so they do, Dave,” answered Father 
Grayson, laughing. 

They then conducted him to an inspection of the 
guinea pigs — foreign relatives of the rabbits — who 
were all out in force enjoying the sunshine, while 
they discussed in amicable groups the cabbage leaves, 
carrots and turnips that had just been emptied into 
their enclosure. There was a pigeon cote, next 
in order, built over the barn where “fantails,” 
“ pouters ”and the common domestic pigeon — most 
beautiful of all — lived in harmony together and 
were now fluttering up and down, circling about in 
the sunshine, uttering soft, persuasive sounds in the 
attempt to teach their stupid fledgelings how to use 
their wings. It was interesting to watch the care 
and delight of the parent-birds when the young ones 


BITTEE-SWEET. 




stretched their fair wings and bravely committed 
themselves to a short flight: and amusing to see put 
into severe execution the only remedy for the more 
cowardly, who were hustled off the perches by their 
angry parents, and were perforce obliged to fly or 
fall. After watching them some time, they went 
to the old pear tree where a large family of crows 
had their summer residence. These sable chatter- 
ers were then engaged in holding a consultation, an 
independent congressional debate in which each one 
thought he must have a say, while nobody listened 
to what another might be talking about. 

“They're getting ready to go into their winter 
quarters,” said Tom. 

“How far do they go? ” asked Father Grayson, 
glad of every opportunity to give the lads pleasure 
by asking questions about things that interested 
them and which made them feel quite important to 
be able to answer. 

“ There's a crow-colony about six or seven miles 
off, sir,” answered Tom, “a broad belt of pines and 
cedars, where they come by thousands every fall, to 
spend the winter. They've been coming there the 
old farmers say, beyond the memory of any man liv- 
ing in these parts, and it’s a curious sight to see 
them after they get settled. They have laws, sir, 
and if we could only understand all they say I dare 
say that we should find that crows have more sense 
than we give them credit for.” 

“No doubt of it; and get some useful hints from 
them for our code,” replied Father Grayson. 

“Why, sir,” put in Charley, “we all spent our 
Christmas week here a year or two ago, and it was 


228 


TOM-BOY. 


the greatest fun to watch the performances of the 
crows. Every morning about seven o’clock we’d see 
two long black processions fluttering through the air 
from the direction of the ‘ Pines.’ One line flew 
south of f Tanglebrake ’ from west to east; the other 
flew in a parallel line on the north side, and sir, they 
had leaders, and pickets, and whippers-in, that every 
crow obeyed by keeping in a straight line; but they 
made a tremendous row in the air as they flew along, 
cawing like mad all the time. They never flew high 
but kept along a few yards above the tree tops, and 
didn’t return until towards sunset when they came 
fluttering and cawing back in the same order, and, if 
the snow was falling, it was fun to see them beating 
their black wings through it, never getting out of 
line, though.” 

“ But where did they go in the morning and for 
what?” inquired Father Grayson. 

“To fill their crops with cedar berries, sir; you 
see those hills in the distance there to the east ; 
they’re covered with cedars, and the plantation folks 
say that it’s a sign of falling weather and a hard 
freeze whenever the crows go foraging that way.” 

“Do the facts answer the sign?” 

“Yes, indeed, Father Grayson, it never fails, and 
somehow they must know when a storm is coming 
that will cut off their supplies for several days,” 
said Tom. 

“The instinct of birds and animals is wonderful. 
I should like to go to that crow-colony, boys, and 
see how these fellows live. And as you’re all inter- 
ested in such matters, I have some splendid works 
on natural history that we’ll look over, to compare 


BITTER-SWEET. 


229 


notes with Charley's observation on the other side of 
the world. Upon my word, you have given me a very 
pleasant morning. Have you anything else to show 
me?" said Father Grayson. 

“ Yes, sir!" answered Dave, with alacrity, “ a 
tame possum. He's at the house, though." 

“I declare I don't think I ever saw a possum in 
my life. Let us visit him by all means," replied Fa- 
ther Grayson. “ I hope he’s not savage and given to 
biting or scratching? " 

“ No, indeed, he's the amiablest little thing that 
ever was — " 

“ Most amiable, my son — " interrupted Charley, 
patting Dave's shoulder. 

“ And the greatest sugar thief, sir, you ever heard 
of—" added Tom. 

“ Why he's quite a character. Where did you get 
him?” 

“ Caught him in a trap when he was very little, 
sir, and he was raised like a kitten in the house-keep- 
er's room — " 

“But just let him find the pantry door ajar," 
said Tom, intent on his point of criminal law, “ and 
he pitches into the sugar barrel, sir, and eats enough 
sugar to fill the sugar-dish for a month; Fve heard 
the house-keeper say so." 

“Civilization hasn't been favorable to that pos- 
sum's morality," observed Father Grayson, highly 
amused. 

“There he is, sir; he's cuddled up in Gay's arms 
on the back porch," said Dave. 

“Hold on to him, Gay; here's Father Grayson 
coming to see him." 


230 


TOM-BOY. 


There he was,, sure enough, curled up in Gray’s lap, 
as she sat on the porch floor, with a string of about 
a dozen crabs scrambling, kicking and frothing at 
their mouths, on the grass beside the house. 

“ Bless my heart, Gay, is that you, and are these 
your trophies? how did you manage to keep them 
from nipping you with their great blue claws? ” said 
Father Grayson, with a pleasant laugh. 

“ Pinioned their claws with their fins, sir; that’s 
the reason they’re so mad,” she answered. 

“ What’s that you have there, my child? ” 

“This is ‘ La Fayette,’ our possum; wake up, ‘La 
Fayette; ’ here’s Father Grayson come to see you,” 
said Gay, raising up her pet and holding him by his 
fore legs until he stood “attention,” looking so inno- 
cent in spite of the bad evidence against him that 
even Father Grayson was willing to think that sugar 
was the one thing his nature craved in his civilized 
state as compensation for the loss of his free life in 
the woods; as to the stealing part of it, it was a 
human vice without human knowledge of right or 
wrong, so the mantle of charity was thrown over it, 
and “La Fayette” petted into showing off his little 
tricks. 

Then they invited Father Grayson to come and see 
the peacock, which happened to be in the full glory 
of spread feathers, purple, green, gold, with fringes 
of black in every plume! What Eastern king ever 
looked grander, as the westering sun flashed on his 
burnished jewels? While they stood admiring the 
splendid creature as he solemnly strutted about, 
preening his pretty crowned head, and puffing out 
his breast of green and gold, he suddenly, wherefore 


BITTER-SWEET. 


231 


11) one knew, looked down at his ugly feet; down 
went his feathers, his proud looks of conscious 
beauty disappeared, and uttering a discordant cry, 
he ran to hide himself, trailing his splendid feathers 
in the dust. 

“ And all because his feet are so ugly,” said Gay, 
laughing. 

“ Or because he's so vain that lie's ashamed of his 
supports. Well, well, my children, there are many 
foolish people in the world ashamed of their footing; 
ashamed of their birth, or their business, when it is 
plain and humble, who don't like to look down any 
more than that peacock,'' said Father Grayson. “ I 
don't know when I've had such a pleasant day; I am 
almost like a boy again, and ready for my dinner.'' 

“Yes, Father, so are we, as hungry as thrashers,'' 
exclaimed the boys. 

Just then Mr. Machen came to meet them with the 
pleasant news that dinner was ready. It was a din- 
ner long to be remembered. The table was covered 
with many delicious dishes, cooked in the old south- 
ern fashion, and those who gathered around it were 
very happy. Mr. Machen had realized for the last 
two days, how the ordinary occurrences of life may 
be sweetened and enhanced by the consciousness and 
possession of a living faith; Mrs. Machen and Isabel 
enjoyed everything in their quiet way. Gay was ra- 
diant and sparkling with merriment, and the boys 
were in a state little short of ecstasy at having 
Father Grayson at “ Tanglebrake,'' where they had 
enjoyed more than they could express, the delight of 
showing him their pets, and most of all his appreci- 
ation thereof. Coffee and cigars on the veranda fol- 


232 


TOM-BOY. 


lowed, and while the two gentlemen conversed, the 
young people gathered around their mother, who was 
telling them about the absurd antics of a hen that 
had hatched out a brood of ducklings a few days be- 
fore, who would swim in the brook to her utter dis- 
traction and grief, which amused them very much. 

“ I must beg you to be my guest at ‘ Tanglebrake 9 
after — well — after we get Charley off. I can't help 
it, it gives me a choking in my throat to think of his 
going, now that the time is so near," said Mr. 
Machen. “ I have some rare old books here in my 
library that I think you would enjoy. Father Gray- 
son, and a collection of early engravings, among 
them two or three genuine Albrecht Durers." 

“ I shall be delighted to come. I have but little 
time for indulgence in such elegant recreation, my 
pastoral obligations holding me fast with a multi- 
plicity of duties; but T hope to find time for this 
some Thursday when Tom and Dave have their 
weekly holiday. I congratulate you, my friend, on 
your children; they are so frank and pure-minded, 
withal so docile and at the same time spirited, with- 
out a bit of that mannish precocity which is the 
ruin of so many boys. It is a perfect wonder to me 
how, without religious helps, they are so good." 

“ They have one of the most judicious mothers, 
Father Grayson. My lads and my wild little girl 
there, have been very carefully reared," replied Mr. 
Machen in a low voice. 

“ Well, I think it safe to predict that her children 
will be a crown of rejoicing to her, there's every 
promise of it; for now they have the safe-guards of 
the Faith to protect, guide, and preserve them 


BITTER-SWEET. 


233 


from the inevitable temptation and evils of the un- 
tried ways of the world they are so soon to enter; 
and with the grace of God to help them, we need 
have but small fears for their future,” said Father 
Grayson, in grave low tones. 

The boys declared on their way home that it was 
the happiest day they had ever spent, and in the ex- 
uberance of their delight burst out into song as they 
bent to their oars. The moon hung like a silver 
boat in the sky, the river, dark and smooth, reflected 
the stars until it looked like an inverted firmament. 
The minstrelsy of the lads who were singing the 
“ Canadian boat-song” was infectious, and when 
they got to the refrain, every one joined in, Mrs. 
Machen with her sweet soprano voice, Isabel with 
her clear silvery tones. Gay with her alto, Mr. 
Machen in uncultivated but delightful tenor, until 
the air was full of harmony, which the wind bore 
echoing down the tide, making the old fishermen, 
who were out for mullets, wonder if mermaids were 
floating up from the bay singing for their destruc- 
tion. 

Father Grayson slipped his rosary out of the 
pocket of his soutane; and hearing only the cadence 
of their song keeping time with the regular dip of 
the oars, he said his beads for the new converts. 


CHAPTER XV. 


After this, Charley went every day to spend an 
hour with Father Grayson; he was very quiet and 
thoughtful at times and had long talks with his 
father and mother in the library. But between 
whiles he played the old games with Tom and Dave, 
and was as merry and full of life as they. His 
voice rang out, his eyes sparkled and his muscular 
limbs were as graceful and agile as ever; it was 
plain to see that the “new religious ideas,” as Tom 
called them, were not making a poke or a muff of 
the fine, spirited fellow. 

“He's an anomaly,” observed Tom to Dave one 
morning, as Charley walked off after having won 
some games which had been vigorously contested. 

“A hominy! What's that?” inquired Dave, to 
whom the word was new, and who, bent on shying 
a pebble at a bird, had not heard it distinctly. 

“Hominy is cracked corn, my son,” replied Tom, 
with his insufferable patronizing air, “but anomaly 
is a departure or deviation from certain fixed rules. 
Charley there is something different from some 
fixed ideas that I had about certain matters, there- 
fore he is to me an anomaly.” 

“Oh!” answered Dave, tossing his tawny hair out 
of his eyes and trying to look wise. “Then we 
couldn't eat an anomaly like we do hominy!” 


TOM-BOY. 


235 


“Not quite,” said Tom, rubbing Dave's head. 
“Sometimes I wish we could; the world could 
spare anomalies better than it could hominy. I 
don't think, though, they'd be good for a fellow's 
digestion.” 

The time was drawing near when Charley must 
leave them not only to brave the dangers of those 
who “go down to the sea in ships,” but to encoun- 
ter the temptations and perils of an untried life. 
The Machens all felt this more or less, but they 
kept their thoughts to themselves and each one 
endeavored to be more than ordinarily cheerful for 
the sake of the others — Mr. and Mrs. Machen set- 
ting the example. 

One morning Isabel awoke Gay with a kiss. The 
sun was shining in through the vine leaves, covering 
the floor with shadows of crumpled gold. 

“Where are you going so early, Isabel? Oh, I'm 
so sleepy! I wish you hadn't wakened me,” she 
said, drowsily. 

“I am not going, I have just come. Oh, Gay, 
sit up and hear the good news! Only think! 
Mamma and Charley made their first Communion 
this morning, and papa and I received with them,” 
said Isabel, her face flushed and her voice tremulous 
with emotion. 

“I should like to have been there too. Some- 
body might have wakened me in time, I think,” 
said Gay, in an angry tone; but the next moment 
she looked with frank, pleasant eyes in Isabel's face 
and said: “But I'm very glad of it for Charley's 
sake.” 

“ So are we all. Father Grayson said he was well 


236 


TOM-BOY. 


prepared, and as he himself was anxious to receive 
the Sacraments before he went away, it was thought 
best that he should do so/’ answered Isabel in her 
grave, sweet way. 

“ Dear old Charley! Oh, my! Isabel, how shall 
we ever let him go?” 

“ Come, get up and dress. 

“What’s the use of sighing 
While time is on the wing? ” 

Isabel trilled out; “ and I have something else to 
tell you. Mamma says we are going to Norfolk day 
after to-morrow and that we shall be all night on 
the steamboat. ” 

“Oh, how exciting! I hope the wind will blow 
and the waters in the Bay be rough, so the steam- 
boat will rock up and down,” exclaimed Gay, bounc- 
ing out of bed. 

“Up an* down,” exclaimed Aunt Winny, who 
had come in just in time to hear this remark. 
“Better not be making wishes like dat ’ar. Missis 
took me travelling once way up No’tli, an* de boat 
we was in — one of dem things with chimbleys in 
the middle an* mill-wheels ’pon each side — got in 
rough water an’, Lord a* mercy! if I didn’t think I 
was dyin’, it made me that sick at my stummick. I 
declar’ I thought I’d throw my toes up, for I was 
sick clean down to the ends of ’em. Don’t you go 
wishin’ to rock up an’ down in one o’ them sort of 
boats; such wishes is apt to come home to roost, mind 
my racket if dey ain’t ! ” 

“’Twouldn’t make me sick I know; I should 


TOM-BOY. 


237 


enjoy it like a duck — or a goose,” said Gay, laugh- 
ing, as she hauled on one of her stockings wrong 
side outwards. 

“Does you see what you's doin'. Gay, a-putting 
your stockin' on wrong side out? pull it off, here's a 
clean pair,” said this despotic Mammy, as she made 
a grab at Gay's foot, and made short work of strip- 
ping off the offending stocking. 

“ you've spoilt my good luck now, you horrid 
old tiling,” snapped Gay. 

“ It's better luck to be clean an' whole, honey; 
does you see dis here hole right on the heel?” said 
Winny. 

“You've just pushed your finger through it, I 
saw you ! ” said Gay. 

“I didn't make the hole anyhow, if I did; it was 
thar before. Now don't them clean ones look a * 
heap nicer?” 

“No, they don't, but they're on now all the 
same,” said Gay, good-humoredly. 

“Look here you all! You ought jest to see Miss 
Dozier this mornin’. I think her head must be 
'fected somehow. She corned from church 'while 
ago, an' she's been cryin' and larfin', kneelin' down 
by fits 'fore her images and pictures prayin', an' if 
you b'lieve me she ain't give T’resa a cuff dis mor- 
nin'. Thar's nothin' up yander to make her that 
happy; if she had been dipped now like we Bap- 
tisses thar'd be some sense in it!” said Winny, in 
low, mysterious tones, not knowing but that Mam- 
my Dozier would be at her back before she got 
through, hearing every word she said. 

“Didn't you know, Aunt Winny,” said Isabel, 


238 


TOM-BOY. 


gently, “ that Mamma and Charley received the 
Holy Sacrament this morning — " 

“And that we’re all Catholics now like Isabel and 
Mammy Dozier. That's what made her laugh and 
cry and pray so/' added Gay, in such serious sweet 
tones that Isabel hardly recognized it as her voice. 

“Thar now! I knowed some misfortin' was 
gwine to happen by a dream I had 'bout bein' stuck 
in the ma'sh covered all over wid mud! But I 
never 'spected it would be so bad as seein' all the 
Machens, de very fust people a-gwine — get flighty 
an' turn 'dolators," said Aunt Winny, tossing her 
her head back and folding her fat brown hands 
together. 

“Yes, we're all 'dolators, every one of us, but we 
arn't cannibal, and won't eat you up, you stupid 
old Baptist," said Gay, laughing, it being a hard 
matter to keep her irrepressible life of fun under, in 
season or out of season. 

“And we’re going to say no end of prayers for 
your conversion. Aunt Winny," said Isabel. 

“Save your bref, honey. I done bin converted 
an' dipped ’fore you was born. Once in grace, 
never out, is what we Baptisses b'lieve," replied 
Aunt Winny, with an air of supreme self-satisfac- 
tion; “look yere, Gay, don't go an' put dat 'ar 
frock on, it's tored; yere's a clean one all ready." 

“No you don't, though. I shan't put it on. I'm 
going to have a high time this blessed day — but 
stop — maybe I ought to look very nice to-day in 
honor of what's happened. Give me the dress and 
fix me up your very nicest, Mammy," answered 
Gay. 


TOM-BOY. 


239 


“1 hope you’ll keep to the same mind. I’ll be 
satisfied if you is a ’dolator, if it larns you to keep 
yourself like a lady.” 

“ Better not crow too soon. I can be a ’dolator 
and a dowdy too, didn’t you know that?— only I mean 
to try and be obedient to mamma in everything. 
If mamma didn’t care I’d rather be dowdy, it’s 
more convenient.” 

“ Make haste down. Gay, I’ve got a terrapin, such 
a funny little fellow,” Dave’s voice was heard say- 
ing outside the Venetian door. 

“I’ll be down presently, Davy dear; make haste. 
Mammy, I want to see the dear little thing before 
the breakfast bell rings.” 

“Who ever heard anybody call a terrapin pet 
names befo’? They make me sick, dey’s jest like 
a snake shet up in a round box. Ugh ! ” 

Isabel went into her own room. Winny was 
called elsewhere, and Gay, left alone, knelt down, 
crossed herself, folded her hands, bowed her head, 
and with a solemn expression on her countenance 
befitting a child who holds converse with God, said 
her morning prayers, asking in simple reverent lan- 
guage for such blessings as she needed, begging 
above all to be made meek and humble of heart, 
obedient and unselfish, and always ready to do unto 
others as she would they should do unto her. These 
were the things she most needed; they were what 
she was going to struggle to win. It would be a 
hard fight she was afraid, for these qualities were all 
opposite to her natural traits, but she would try all 
the same. 

Her prayers over, she ran down and found Davy 


240 


TOM-BOY. 


waiting for her, who conducted her in triumph to 
where the terrapin was basking near the fountain. 
After admiring it to Davy’s entire content, she 
went in to breakfast holding his hand, her hair 
smooth, her dress clean and crisp — for she had 
really thought of holding it up lest the grass should 
draggle it. There was a glow upon her cheeks and a 
tender light in her eyes, indeed she looked almost 
pretty, as they remarked to each other afterwards, 
when she went and greeted her mother, her father 
and Charley, bidding them “good morning” in a 
way that made them feel that it had a deeper mean- 
ing than any other “ good morning ” she had ever 
wished them before. 

This was a very busy day, as may be easily imag- 
ined. There were final preparations to be made for 
Charley, and some packing done for those, that is 
the whole family, who were to accompany him to 
Norfolk. Tom Spar came in the afternoon with a 
queer looking canvas bag that he had cut out and 
made himself as a parting gift for his young friend, 
who, he said, might find it useful to stow his soiled 
linen in at sea. It had straps . and buckles and 
a little padlock on it, and “ Mid’n Charley Maclien ” 
painted in large black letters upon the side. It was 
very much admired, to the great gratification of the 
old tar. After a few whispered words to his father 
and mother, while Tom Spar was busy strapping up 
the bag again and not noticing, Mr. Maclien invited 
him to go to Norfolk with Charley to show him how 
to stow away his things, and see him off. I can’t 
pretend to describe the hemming and hawing, the de- 
light that struggled with his shyness; the rapid 


TOM-BOY . 


241 


shifting of his tobacco quid from one cheek to the 
other; the hitching up of his trousers, and the pull- 
ing at his whiskers, before Tom Spar could make it 
understood that he would be delighted to go. The 
boys thought it would be jolly to have him along, 
and Mrs. Machen wished in secret that the strong 
old veteran sailor, who was so fond of her boy, were 
going on his first voyage with him. 

Charley's boxes and other baggage were sent off 
early the next morning to remain at the steamboat 
office ready to go on board the following day. Fa- 
ther Grayson came in at lunch time. He brought a 
package of books for Charley: “Guy Mannering," a 
copy of “Eustace's Classical Tour," and “Chateau- 
briand's Genius of Christianity," which package he 
forbade Charley to open until he began to feel his 
first homesickness at sea. They all felt touched by 
Father Grayson's kindly thought of him they were 
going to lose so soon out of their happy home circle. 
Charley's face flushed with pleasure and gratitude 
and he promised to obey orders faithfully. Ho 
dolefulness or melancholy suggestions were allowed 
to be apparent in the house that day, his last one 
at home. Everything must be bright and cheerful, 
such as would make him happy to think of some- 
times in his lonely night-watches on the round-top; 
and revive his heart, should he feel weary and 
despondent when far away. Other friends came in; 
they were dropping in all day to shake hands with 
their young favorite, and wish him “bon voyage." 
Father Grayson had a few words with him alone in 
the library, where he bestowed a fervent blessing on 
him, and whispered words of good hope and cheer 


tom-boy. 


242 

into his ear, folded him to his breast a moment, 
confided him to the care of the Blessed Virgin, 
then blessed him, wrung his hand and went away, 
feeling the pain of the loss of this fair plant that 
had sprung up like a young palm tree in the garden 
of his priesthood, when it would have been a solace 
to keep it near him that he might have watched its 
spiritual unfolding and growth, for he had learned 
to love his young neophyte for the true, manly and 
noble qualities of his nature. 

Coming and going all day, troops of friends, old 
and young, rich and poor, the house was never 
empty, to Teresa’s intense delight, she having the 
supreme pleasure of attending the door on this 
memorable occasion; and amidst these neighborly 
and friendly demonstrations, there was no time or 
opportunity to indulge in the least sadness. 

Many of them brought keepsakes for the young 
sailor, which it was impossible for him to take with 
him; things that would have been in his way and 
altogether useless on ship-board; but the boy felt 
the intention of it all, and he was glad to know 
that so many persons thought well of him, now 
that he was going away. 

The next morning by five o’clock the party were 
on board the steamboat “Potomac”* and by the 
time the sun rose they were gliding down the broad, 
bright, beautiful river towards the Bay. „ There 
was what the seamen call a “spanking breeze” 
blowing — the sky was “ darkly, beautifully blue,” — 


* The first steamboat that ever plied between Washing- 
ton and Norfolk. 


TOM-HOY. 


243 


the crisp, curling waves reflected the heavens, and 
there was a long, wide track of foam in the wake of 
the boat. The wooded hills along shore looked 
blue behind the autumnal mists; little white-sailed 
boats flitted like spirits upon the face of the waters. 
Large trading vessels were moving slowly along 
towards the old ports of Alexandria and George- 
town, and, to the immense delight of our young 
travellers, they began to dance and roll as if a taran- 
tula had stung them whenever the swell thrown 
out by the steamer’s paddles had caught them. 

Breakfast found them all with such appetites, 
that it seemed as if the plentiful supply of inviting- 
food, cooked in the old-fashioned Virginia style, 
placed before them, would be insufficient to appease 
their voracious hunger. Fish, flesh and fowl, egg- 
bread, flannel cakes, rolls and biscuits disappeared, 
and each new viand seemed to rather increase than 
diminish their relish. 

u l’m really afraid they’ll make themselves ill,” 
said Mrs. Machen, who, with Mr. Machen, had 
left the table and was sitting near the door. 

“ Oh, no, let them enjoy it. The new condition 
of things around them; the air, the motion and the 
novelty of the ever-changing panorama stimulate 
and create a demand for more food than usual. It 
won’t hurt them. But seeing our young kites feed- 
ing in this voracious way reminds me of a story 
Commodore Barton was telling yesterday. A friend 
of his. Captain Latham, whose ship belonged to the 
South Atlantic Squadron, began all at once, while in 
port, to show signs of great eccentricity, which no 
one could account for, as his official duties were 


244 


TOM-BOT. 


always attended to as usual. He began to have diffi- 
culties with the Spanish officials; sometimes he'd 
speak to his friends, at other times he’d cut them in 
the rudest manner. Once or twice he was almost 
insulting to the wives of some of the officers of 
the squadron, and finally had a row with his land- 
lady, refusing in the most decided manner to pay 
his board bill. She had no idea of losing it, and 
got into a boat and had herself rowed to the. Flag- 
Ship to lay her complaints before the Commodore, 
who could scarcely credit what he heard, as Captain 
Latham was considered a high-toned, honorable 
man, and always genial and courteous in his man- 
ners; but he ordered the Captain to be signalled to 
come on board, and in less than half an hour he 
appeared, and was conducted at once to the Com- 
modore's state-room. The Commodore, who was 
a warm friend of the Captain's, had a long, serious 
conversation with him; he told him frankly but 
kindly all the reports he had heard, and of the com- 
plaint just laid before him, and reminded him that 
such conduct was ‘ unbecoming an officer and a 
gentleman,' and as such open to official censure. 
Captain Latham heard all that the Commodore had 
to say, until he told him he insisted on his settling 
his accounts immediately with his landlady, when, 
after excusing himself for the interruption, he said 
in the most matter-of-fact way: ‘I acknowledge 
the truth of all you say. Commodore. I don't 
drink, you know, but there are several things wrong 
in my system, that make me act very often as if I 
did. I've got a hole in my head here just behind my 
left ear, and you can't imagine the trouble it gives 


TOM-BOY. 


245 


me to keep my brains in. That’s bad enough, but 
I’ve got a tape-worm in my stomach, sir; I am very 
willing to pay my own board, but I’m not going to 
pay board for a tape-worm. That is the reason I 
refused to pay the woman’s bill. I won’t submit to 
the imposition of paying board for a confounded 
tape-worm fifty feet long. No, sir.’ The fact was 
apparent that the poor fellow was crazy. It had 
been coming on for months, and no one suspected 
it until now. The Admiral turned him over to the 
surgeon’s care, and after persuading him to pay 
that disputed bill, sent him home for hospital treat- 
ment.” 

“I hope the Captain won’t charge double for our 
young folks’ breakfast. How happy they all look! 
Even Isabel is chatting merrily,” said Mrs. Machen, 
after laughing over the tape-worm story, which she 
could not help doing, although she felt the sadness 
of the case. 

“ Papa,” said Gay, who had at last finished her 
breakfast, and now stood leaning on her father’s 
shoulder, “I want you to go with me and show me 
how that tremendous engine goes. I want to see 
the inside of it, and so do we all except Isabel, who 
declares she won’t go near it. Dave’s been down 
there with the Captain, and he says it’s splendid, 
and simple as A, B, C.” 

“My dear! ” said Mr. Machen, with a twinkle in 
his eye,” you must all really let me off at present. 
When we return, we’ll manage to get on board be- 
fore the fires are lighted, when everything down 
there will be cool and safe, then I will take great 
pleasure in showing you all that’s to be seen.” 


246 


TOM-BOY. 


“ Papa, you’re not afraid?" asked Gay, with a 
world of meaning in her voice. 

“ Well, I can’t say that I’m rationally afraid, little 
girl, but the fact is, the heat and pounding and 
whizzing down there demoralize me a little, give me 
a sort of panic, so I’d rather keep away, and posi- 
tively forbid any one of you venturing to go down.’’ 

The young people found sufficient to amuse and 
interest them without visiting between decks to 
inspect the engine, and by sunset they found them- 
selves tossing about at the mouth of the river where 
it empties into the bay. It was a wild, stormy sun- 
set, walled in with great ragged, black clouds, 
through whose rifts dazzling splendors shone out 
upon the stormy looking waters. The shore line 
was distant and indistinct, and looking eastward 
they could see only water and sky. Up and down 
the boat was now going to Gay’s intense delight. 
Isabel grew very white and was obliged to lie down 
and be covered up on a settee. Mrs. Machen looked 
rather pale and had to hold on to Mr. Machen’s arm 
with both hands, as they tried to walk up and down 
the deck, but after a while they suddenly disap- 
peared in their state-room, both of them surrender- 
ing ignominiously to the first qualms of sea-sickness. 
Tom looked utterly melancholy, but he said nothing 
and curled himself up on a bench and pretended to 
be watching the flight of some gulls. Charley and 
Dave were on the hurricane-deck with Tom Spar, 
while Gay pranced about like an unbroken colt sing, 
ing, whistling and facing the strong sea-breeze that 
blew her long hair streaming out behind her like 
the tail of a comet. The steamboat was now fairly 


TOM-BOY . 


247 


in the bay and the wind was blowing “ big guns.” 
Tom Spar brought the boys down from the hurri- 
cane-deck, and as they came forward in search of 
the party they saw Gay tottering towards a post, 
which after a number of gyrations and curious tan- 
gents she reached and held on to with both hands: 
her face wore a sickly pallor and a cold sweat be- 
dewed her face. Sea-sickness had caught her at last. 
Charley got to her as well as he could for the pitch- 
ing of the boat, and putting his arm around her led 
her to the side of the deck, where leaning over the 
taffrail she paid tribute to Neptune in the way that 
most land-lubbers do who venture off dry land, 
after which she lay pale and mute on a settee, 
a defeated, surprised, circumvented Tom-boy if 
there ever was one. The storm increased in violence, 
the captain looked grave: he said, “the equinoctial 
storm” was on them earlier than usual, he might be 
obliged to make harbor and lay to for the night, 
but there'd be no danger if they could keep clear of 
“white squalls.” Mr. Machen kept this news to 
himself and tried to make the best of the situation, 
but they were all very sea-sick, Gay the most so per- 
haps of all, and Mr. Machen, Charley and Tom 
Spar, — w ho volunteered his assistance — were kept 
busy through the night, getting restoratives and 
remedies for the suffering ones. 

“'T wouldn't be barf so bad outside,” said the old 
seaman to Charley as they sat talking together, 
“there's plenty of sea-room out there, in here there's 
never nothing but these short choppin' seas that's 
enuff to make a walrus sick. I hate these steam 
things, there's nothin' like sails, Mr. Charley, to 


248 


TOM-BOY . 


bring a craft safe to port. These nasty, clumsy 
blacksmiths* shops bailin’ like a tea-kettle and ham- 
merin’ away like old scratch all the time are fit for 
nothin* but oyster-punts and tow-boats.** 

“ I wish it was over on account of them all being 
sick. I don’t mind.it a bit myself/* said Charley. 

“I know you don’t, sir. You’ve got good sea 
legs, sir, and a stiddy head on you, I can see that; 
but ’tain’t no use wishing. These equinoctuals has 
their law as well as other things in nature; but 
’twon’t be long afore daybreak and if I aint out o* 
my reckonin’ we’ll be off Fortress Monroe by that 
time.” 

“ Is the water still, there?” 

“Lord bless you, no. We’ll get right in the 
horseshoe thar and see blazes, if I ain’t mistaken. 
The Jeems River, and the bay and the ’Lizabeth 
river comes together ’long there, but after this old 
tub gets parst that, we’ll be in still water, leastways 
stiller nor this.” 

Sure enough, just as the stars began to fade out 
of sight, faint streaks of dawn shone along the east, 
showing the great, tumultuous, foam-capped waves 
dashing out to plunge between the capes into the 
Atlantic. Their peaked crests could be defined 
against the sky, and two or three ships under bare 
poles were slowly struggling up the bay, tossing and 
pitching as if they might be swallowed any moment 
in the watery abyss that opened beneath them. A 
great line of white surf beat against the low Virginia 
shore, and in the distance Tom Spar showed Char- 
ley a long narrow tongue of land that shot out into 
the bay from the mainland, upon which arose high 


TOM-BOY. 


249 


green ramparts, while fluttering above them from 
the peak of a tall flag staff, was the beautiful flag of 
the free. 

“ That’s Fortress Monroe, sir,” said the old tar, 
“ and over yonder nigh the opposite shore, where 
you see them vessels huddled together, is where 
they’re makin’ an island to build another fort upon.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


CONCLUSION. 

“ They call that Fort Rip-Raps, and I guess it'll 
be Rip-Raps all 'long.” 

Tom Spar laughed, then rolled his quid over, and 
gave a hitch to his trousers. 

“What are they building it for?” interrogated 
Charley, much interested. 

“ Why, you see, sir, by huggin' the shore a en- 
emy’s ships would git in out of range of Fort Mon- 
roe's guns, and that 'ar contrivance, if it ever do 
come to anything, will lay like a lion in their way.” 

“So it will, but how are they building the 
island?” 

“Humpin’ down vessel loads of rock; they've 
been at it two years now — hundreds of loads have 
been throwed overboard there, and I reckon it'll 
take thousands upon thousands of tons more 'fore 
it shows 'hove the water line; but they'll do it, sir; 
whatever the 'Merican Nation undertakes, that she 
does for sartin'. That ain’t God Almighty's way of 
making islands though. His’n goes up out of the 
deeps of the seas, but landsmen mighty conceited, 
sir, they makes 'em by throwing things down, 
beginnin' like at the top.” 

“I’ve read about the coral insects that build the 
islands, of the sea, Tom; I don't think there are 
such skilful, patient masons in the world,” an- 


CONCLUSION. 


251 


swered Charley, amused by his friend’s nice distinc- 
tions, and his way of expressing them. 

“ Look there, sir, on our starboard quarter! 
There’s a man-o’-war in the Roads, and I b’lieve its 
the No’tli Ca’lina — bless my eyes if it ain’t! I 
made my second voyage in her and I knows every 
timber in her from stem to stern. She’s jest in 
from a three year’s cruise in the Mediterranean. 
Did you ever see anything as purty in all your life, 
sir, as a man-o’-war? Look at her riggin’, her spars; 
she’s a three-decker, sir, and only see how she shows 
them teeth of hers! ” Tom Spar could not contain 
himself any longer, his enthusiasm boiled over, and 
snatching off his tarpaulin, he waved it round his 
head and gave three lusty cheers for his old ship. 

The sun now arose full of flaming glory and lit 
up the wildly tossing sea with eerie light. The 
night-rack, dun and dark, was rolling southward in 
great masses, like a gloomy curtain rolled ofl from 
the fair, bright face of the sky, the green waves, 
edged with sparkling foam, ran high; the wind still 
piped loudly its last notes of defiance, and pres- 
ently, one by one, our travellers crept out ’of their 
berths, recovered from sea-sickness but pale and 
limp. Gay simply looked ashamed of herself and 
had but little to say, until she spied a ten-oared gig 
put off from the “ North Carolina ” and come 
towards them, rowed by ten sailors. Two officers 
sat in the stern, one of them steering, wdiile the 
boat seemed standing sometimes on one end and 
sometimes on the other, at one time hidden between 
two great waves, anon mounted on the very crest of 
one, tossed here and there like a cork, and plunging 


252 


TOM-BOY. 


down as if never to rise again, but the sailors pulled 
steadily, every oar struck the water at the same 
instant, and they sat there as unconcernedly as if 
they were rowing upon a mountain lake, their 
brawny arms with thews and sinews like iron, their 
hearts like oak. Gay’s face kindled up with its old 
spirit as she watched the progress of the “gig.” 
She grew wild with excitement and clapped her 
hands with glee every time it rode a wave, but Isa- 
bel could not look, she shrank down upon a coil of 
cable rope and covered her face with her hands 
expecting every instant to hear that the man-o’-war’s 
boat had disappeared forever. The engine of the 
steamer was reversed, and she was laying to as stead- 
ily as she could in such a sea, and presently the boat 
got safely along-side, grapnels were thrown down 
which the sailors adroitly caught and hooked, and 
there they were, tossing and pitching and bumping 
about, but all safe. One of the officers ran up the 
ladder and stood an instant near the gangway while 
a mailbag was tossed on board the steamer, and 
another from the steamer to the gig, the word of 
command was given, down dropped the oars, the 
sailors eased off, the wheels of the steamer made two 
or three slow revolutions and already there was a 
wide distance between the two. The “Potomac” 
could not stop at “Old Point Comfort ” as usual, on 
account of the high sea running, and the miserable 
condition of the old log pier, so she steamed off 
towards Norfolk and in about a half hour was in 
still water, between calm, beautiful shores dotted 
with farm houses, and fair gardens stretching down 
nearly to the water’s edge. Hundreds of little 


CONCLUSION. 


253 


market boats were hurrying down the river loaded 
with fruits and vegetables for the Norfolk market; 
cabbage heads, cantaloupe and apples were floating 
about here and there, having rolled overboard as 
the small crafts shifted sail, or caught a swell more 
than usually heavy. Fishermen were busy, solitary 
and alone in their “pirogues”; they had only to 
throw out their lines to haul in the finny treasures 
of the deep, sheep-head, sea-trout and sunfish, 
besides others of lesser fame such as cat-fish, 
perch, and hog-fish. The old negro oystermen with 
their tongs about twenty feet long, like two inverted 
rakes working together on a pivot-like scissors, were 
grubbing in the river bed on each side the chan- 
nel for oysters, which lay there in plenty; 
along shore little bare legged darkies were after soft 
crabs in the m arshes, or wading out to catch shrimps 
in little nets. The river was the great business 
high-way to Norfolk and it was full of life. After 
passing Crany Island with its old block-house and 
three tall pines, where the British, a few years 
before, had fought a battle with the Americans and 
been defeated, they came in sight of a forest of 
masts from which floated the flags of all nations, 
making a gay spectacle ; a little nearer, and the old, 
dreamy town of Norfolk was discerned beyond them; 
on the opposite side of the river they saw Ports- 
mouth, and beyond that, Tom Spar told Charley, 
was the Navy-Yard and the Dry-Dock just com- 
menced. Charley's ship, the “Erie”, lay at the 
Navy-Yard getting in supplies, and after breakfast, 
accompanied by his father and rowed thither by 
Tom Spar in a boat they hired, our young midship- 


254 


TOM-BOY. 


man went aboard to report himself. The captain 
was a regular old salt who learnt everything he 
knew, and what he didiTt know about his profession 
was not worth learning, on shipboard; he was a 
practical seaman, proud of his profession, and 
believed in strict discipline. He was a stern look- 
ing, bronzed old fellow, as straight as a marline- 
spike, and had a voice like a file at work. He nodded 
to Charley, shook hands with Mr. Maclien, who pre- 
sented his letter of introduction from Commodore 
Burton, and invited him into his state-room to take 
some wine and a biscuit. 

“ Your son's a fine looking chap, sir, I hope he's 
not a molly-coddle." 

“ Ho sir, he's not a molly-coddle; he's taken a 
fancy to your profession and, if I’m not mistaken, 
he intends to take it rough and easy* alike until he 
learns something about it." 

“I'll give him a chance, no doubt of that. I 
make my youngsters handle the ropes, sir, and d.o 
everything else that will give them a practical know- 
ledge of seamanship; I don't like my sailors to 
have a better knowledge of it than my officers, so if 
he don't like the smell of tar, and is too light-headed 
to go aloft, he’d better go home again." 

“ My son’s a sensible lad, Captain, and a brave 
one, too, if I may say it. I think you'll find him 
steady and disposed to apply himself in earnest to 
the profession he has chosen." 

“He’ll get on if he's all that, no doubt of it. 
We've licked the British on the high seas in two 
wars, sir, but it will take a third to beat it 
entirely out of their hard heads that Brittania is 


CONCLUSION. 


255 


not mistress of the seas. It may be that we old fel- 
lows will be gone when the next brush comes, and 
we must train our lads to fill the places vacated by 
the bravest and best seamen that ever defended 
the honor of their flag. When do you return home, 
sir? " 

“To-morrow morning. My wife and children 
came to Norfolk with me — " 

“In that case. Midshipman Machen has twenty- 
four hours' leave," interrupted the captain. 

Mr. Machen thanked him — they shook hands, and 
parted, Charley returning in triumph with his fa- 
ther. 

“Who's your captain, sir?" asked Tom Spar, as 
he rowed them across. 

“ Captain Sullivan." 

“ Whew-w-w," whistled the old tar. “ I've heerd 
of him afore. I tell you, sir, he keeps things taut, 
and makes the cat fly if a rope goes loose." 

“ I'm glad he's strict, if that's what you mean, 
he'll keep me up to the mark all the better," said 
Charley, manfully. 

“That he will, sir, be sure of that." Then Tom 
Spar rolled his quid over and held his tongue. 

Mrs. Machen and the young folks were overjoyed 
to see Charley back, as they thought he had left 
them for good — had bid him farewell and were feel- 
ing very sad when he went away that morning to 
his ship. They had hundreds of questions to ask 
about the “Erie," the captain and the officers, par- 
ticularly about the middies, which, considering he 
was only an hour on board, he answered in a tolera- 
bly satisfactory manner, spreading out the little he 


256 . 


TOM-BOY. 


had learned thin and broad, like a small piece of 
butter over a great slice of bread. 

The next morning early the Machens attended 
Mass at the quaint old church which was built early 
in the seventeenth century by the French colonists 
who founded the city, where are still to be found 
many of the customs engrafted by them on the char- 
acter of their American descendants. There was a 
peculiar solemnity to them in this Mass in which 
they offered to the especial care and protection of 
Almighty God through His Divine Son, the son and 
brother from whom they were to be separated in a 
few brief hours “for years and it might be forever! " 
Dark old cedars cast a subdued shadow throughout 
the church; the altar of yellow marble was literally 
covered with fragrant tropical blooms which filled 
the “holy of holies” with fragrance, and almost 
concealed from view the heavy rich ornaments of sil- 
ver that the pilgrims to the new world had brought 
with them a century ago, from princely private 
chapels, and noble houses, when they had fled for 
refuge from troublous times in their native land 
where there was neither safety nor protection for soul 
or body. Mr. and Mrs. Machen would have been 
glad to examine the ancient tombstones, mildewed 
and discolored by age, that marked the resting places 
of the early pioneers of Virginia, but they had not 
time. They returned to the hotel and after break- 
fast crossed over to Portsmouth by the ferry-boat to 
be near Charley as long as possible, for at twelve 
o’clock he was to report himself to the executive 
officer of the “ Erie.” Tom Spar had gone early to 
the ship with Charley’s boxes and traps which he 


CONCLUSION. 


m 


stowed in their places in the most nautically scien- 
tific manner, after which he had a mysterious con- 
versation with the executive officer, signed a paper, 
and came away looking highly delighted, to wait at 
the ferry pier for his friends whom he found sitting 
on the wide, old porch of the ferry-house watching 
the busy scene on the river, enjoying the sea-breeze 
and wondering what it was that was bringing so 
many well-dressed ladies, children, and gentlemen 
down to the shore, where they stood in groups, look- 
ing now and then seaward while they talked 
animatedly together, as if they were expecting 
something. Mr. Machen suggested a boat race, 
which gave rise to high anticipations of delight in 
the breasts of the young people, but Tom Spar who 
had heard their speculation told them better. 

“It's the ‘No’th Ca'lina' that's expected down, 
sir," he said, giving his tarpaulin a lift, and his 
trousers the inevitable hitch; “she's off Oranv 
Island thar, and them ladies is the wives and moth- 
ers and sweethearts and sisters of the officers and 
men aboard. They've been gone these three years, 
sir, and their people have come from all parts to 
welcome 'em home." 

“It is a very happy occasion. Does the ship go 
to the Navy- Yard?" 

“Yes, sir, a pretty sight you'll see presently, 
when she gets nearer," answered Tom Spar, after 
which he went and took a seat on a broken buoy 
which lay half-buried in the sand, where the boys 
joined him. 

The steamboats were towing the great leviathan 
of the deep, at that time the largest line-of-battle 


258 


TOM-BOY. 


ship afloat, and by the time she got between the two 
cities every cross-tree and yard-arm was manned with 
sailors in clean suits, six hundred all told, of living 
motionless men who stood clasping each others* 
hands on every available place among the rigging 
from the tops of the three masts down to the first 
round-tops. And now the throngs along the shore 
waved welcome with handkerchiefs and hats, kisses 
were thrown towards the ship, three tremendous 
cheers burst from the men among the rigging and 
the band struck up (t Home, sweet home.** There 
wasn’t a dry eye to be seen; the whole town by this 
time was down on the sands, and the wildest cheer- 
ing welcomed the brave fellows home. 

“ It is the most interesting scene I ever witnessed,*’ 
remarked Mr. Machen, whose eyes were suspiciously 
moist, “ wipe away your tears, dear wife, for thus 
we shall welcome our sailor boy home after three 
years, which you know will quickly pass.** 

“ I hope so,** answered Mrs. Machen, making a 
great effort to restrain her emotion, her lips quiver- 
ing the while despite her will. 

“1 am so glad Charley’s in the Navy!” exclaimed 
Gay coming towards them, the tears and smiles 
struggling together in her countenance. “ If I 
ever get married, mamma, I mean to marry a sailor.” 
This made them all laugh, the very idea of Tom-boy’s 
ever thinking such a tremendous thought as that of 
getting married seemed like a ridiculous phenome- 
non, and the boys straightway began to tease and 
chaff her after the usual fashion of such young out- 
laws. 

Isabel’s fine sensitive nature had been deeply 


CONCLUSION. 


259 

touched by the scene, tears flowed softly from her 
eyes, and she had her own unuttered thoughts which 
unconsciously led her forward three years in the fu- 
ture, towards another scene like this when the“ Erie " 
should come home. 

At length the hour of parting came, farewells 
were spoken, the last embraces given, and Midship- 
man Charley, his face very grave and pale with the 
pain of the moment, hut keeping a brave heart too, 
folded his mother in his arms just once more, wrung 
his father's hand and was ready to jump into the 
little wherry that was to carry him to his ship when 
Tom Spar advanced holding his tarpaulin in one 
hand, the other outstretched to Mr. Machen. 

“ Good-bye," he said, “I thought I was done wi' 
the sea, but I couldn't stan' the sight of my old 
ship, and him there goin' off by hisself, so I signed 
the ship-papers this mornin', sir, and I'm goin' my 
last cruise." 

*‘This is very sudden, my good friend, is it not?" 

“I've been th inkin' 'bout it two or three days oif 
and on, but wasn't quite settled in my mind 'till 
this mornin' when I took Midshipman Charley's 
boxes aboard, and there, sir, standin' at the gang- 
way givin' some orders was the Cap'n. I knowed 
him the minit I saw him. I was with him in them 
fights ag'in the British on the Lakes, sir, and he 
knowed me, and by the way he shouted out at me 
you'd ha' thought, sir, he was goin' to put me into 
the mouth of a gun and blow me up, then he let out 
some big swears at me— it's his way, sir, his swearin' 
don't mean nothin' though but bad grammar— and 
by the time I got on deck there he was holdin' out 


260 


TOM-BOY. 


his hail’ to me afore ’em all. He told me the boat- 
swain was just buried, and I was the man he wanted, 
and so you see, sir, it all dovetailed together like; 
for I was goin’ anyways, whether he wanted a new 
boatswain or not. Now, sir, may I be so bold as to 
ask you to take care of my house and what’s in it 
for me — here’s the key — and if I should never come 
back, sir, I’ll get Midshipman Charley to write down 
what I want done. There’s a box in my big chest, 
sir, that’s got some old Spanish doubloons and dol- 
lars in it, them two little keys unlocks ’em, and I 
shall be Obliged to you if you will keep ’em for me; 
don’t put ’em in bank, sir, I’ve got no faith in them 
institutions.” 

“I’m very glad you are going, Spar, as long as it 
is your own free choice, and I’ll see to your affairs 
whilst you are gone, most certainly.” 

“ Thank’ee, kindly, sir. That’s all, sir; good-bye, 
sir, good-bye, madam — ” 

“Oh, Mr. Spar, you don’t know what a load of 
care you have taken from my heart by going with 
my boy. I know you’ll watch over him and let no 
harm come to him,” replied Mrs. Machen, holding the 
rough, brawny hand of the old sailor in both her own. 
Tom Spar’s forehead began to get knots in it, and 
his tobacco quid tossed from one side of his mouth 
to the other with surprising velocity; he was on the 
eve of blubbering out like a great old silly, soft- 
hearted boy, for the thought of his own mother and 
her first parting with him, suddenly came over him 
as the gentle, loving mother with tears in her eyes, 
placed her boy, as it were, under his protection; but 
he turned away and called to Charley, who was hav- 


CONCLUSION. 


261 


ing a few last words with Isabel and Gay, telling 
him that “time was nearly up.” 

“ Tell her, sir, Pll do it, with the help of God,” 
he said to Mr. Machen, who went to the wherry with 
his son, “ I couldn't tell her, sir, there was a lump 
as big as a buoy a-chokin' me, but you'll tell her.” 

“ I will, my friend. Good-bye, my boy — good- 
bye, my boy,” said Mr. Machen. 

“ Good-bye, father, I'll write every time there is a 
mail returning this way.” 

Then the wherry pushed off, Charley was gone, and 
with sad, subdued hearts the party returned to Nor- 
folk by the ferry. In the afternoon they went on 
an excursion to Fortress Monroe, where they visited 
the casements, and the big cannons, walked on the 
high, green ramparts, and by the time they were 
through, a dress-parade was going on on the plain, 
which was an especial delight to the young folks. 
Gay was more enchanted with the wide moat outside 
the ramparts than anything she had seen, she. imag- 
ined herself in a feudal castle, and some buzzards 
that she saw floating about in mid-air, the falcons 
of knights and ladies, who had cast them from their 
jesses to soar to an aerial outlook in search of quarry. 

The trip back to Norfolk was lovely, there was a 
full moon, a gentle breeze, and a band of music on 
board played stirring and enlivening pieces, the 
notes of which floated far out on the waters, dying 
in the distance like a low whisper on the wind. Let- 
ters were written that night to Charley, describing 
all they had seen at the Fortress, and filled with 
words of affection and good cheer, neither were # 
friendly messages to Tom Spar forgotten. 


262 


TOM-BOY. 


The next morning found theMachens “homeward- 
bound.” The weather was as calm and pleasant as 
could be wished, till they arrived at the termination 
of their voyage, without having been sea-sick, or en- 
countering the slightest disagreeable thing. They 
were all glad to be at home once more, and the prep- 
arations that were immediately entered upon for 
the young people to begin their school-life, preven- 
ted Charley’s absence being felt as painfully as it 
would have been, if the course of their daily exist- 
ence had gone on in the ordinary way, without 
change. 

Here we will say “ good bye ” to Tom-boy for a 
little while; we shall meet the Machens again, per- 
haps, after a year or two has passed over their heads, 
and learn how it fared with each of them as they 
grew out of their girlhood and boy-life, and what 
befell them in their after career. 















- 







































- 







































































» 


* 







/ 























* 

























I-OL-f 


CH 





■i 


nBnniHi 


POR nv ER- r>r '"' r '*’Ti 0 N TWO C£NTS . 





I 


I: 


.L. 17-19-3-26 

THE PUBLIC LIBRARY 

V ~ l ) 72. fe-f- 


R.-26 


All losses or injuries beyond red/onable wear^ 
however caused, must be promptly adjusted by 
the person to whom the book is charged, 

Fine for over detention, two cents a day 
(Sunday excluded). 

Books will be issued and received from 9 a. m. 
to 9 p. m. (Sundays, July 4, December 25, ex- 
cepted). 

KEEP YOUR CARD IN THIS POCKET. 


ti'l 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 







